New Kid Stories S1-E6: Sneakers SnacShak
by JustCallMeButtLord
Summary: A new pizzeria opens in South Park, just in time for Karen's birthday celebration! Pay no mind to the man in the mascot costume; I'm certain he's harmless. . . [Sixth installment of the New Kid series. FNAF PARODY! Rated M for language, violence, vulgar descriptions. Cis!Female New KidxKenny, Stendy, suggestion of Karen x Dougie]
1. Thanksgiving's Briefings

HOLY CRAP WE'RE ALIVE!

Hello friends and readers of all persuasions, and welcome to the **sixth installment of the New Kid Stories-** my series of stories which entail the adventures of my New Kid from the South Park games Stick of Truth and Fractured but Whole. I write these stories in an _episodic_ fashion, with each story containing a plot all its own while also _contributing to a long-term arc and overall mystery._ You're welcome to hop in wherever you like, as I try to include enough callback and recap in each story that it can be picked up by a new reader without going through all the shit that came before, but there will be details in each individual installment that foreshadow that which is to come. Y'know, for the crazies out there who dig that, _**like me.**_

What you need to know about the story: **My New Kid is a Cisgendered, Pansexual [disaster] girl who has presented as male since moving to South Park because of personal fears that she won't be able to hang out with the guys if they find out she's a chick. Her ability to influence people online is a facet of a legit superpower that is yet to be fully understood and has IRL uses that function via her voice, so she is generally silent minus a select few individuals who appear to be immune. She still fights crime as Buttlord, partnered with Mysterion and Callgirl, and her and Kenny began dating in secret in story #3.**

What you need to know about _me:_ _ **This story is my JUST FOR FUN PROJECT.**_ There will be mistakes. Previous stories are messy and have inconsistencies on how old the kids are, what grade they're in, and the first story in particular is clunky as hell. _I write these fics when I'm too stressed out for my professional projects._ A lot of the writing is done _seat-of-the-pants_ style with references to the Wiki when in doubt, and South Park _can't keep it's own goddamn canon consistent._ **There will be silly mistakes. There will be spelling errors. There will be goof-ups.** You're welcome to _respectfully_ notify me when I've messed up a sentence structure or some shit, but do not expect me to go and re-write a _whole chapter_ or do _find and replaces_ on the whole series because I flubbed something. If it's an honest fuck-up and I think it's important, I'll clarify it in the future. If it doesn't matter, I'm not spending energy to fix it or stress out about it. _**This fic is just for fun. Do not harass me over content you are getting for free. I tried humoring people at the beginning, and people were abusive ass hats.**_

Now that I've scared off everyone who thinks I'm little more than a whiny snowflake,

 _ON  
_ _WITH  
_ _THE  
FIC_

 _O **WTF!**_

 **:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Thanksgiving's Briefings::**

Butters and Kenny had run a gauntlet of toddlers just to get up the stairs after getting a text to meet Dee in his room. Butters thought all of the cousins were kinda cute, what with all their energy, but he could understand how a quiet guy like Dee would find them really annoying. He liked his space, and kiddos weren't really known for respecting that. Once they were up the stairs, and a scary old lady on the couch had shouted at the little ones trying to follow them, Kenny had knocked on the door in a reserved manner that barely got over the din coming from downstairs.

The door didn't open right away. There was hesitation.

"Maybe he's takin' a nap?" Butters posited. As someone who had recently gotten out of the hospital himself and was taking prescription pain medication, he knew from experience that _sleep_ was a primary activity. Did they give the knock-out pills to people who got stitches? He'd had surgery to fix internal bleeding after getting shot, but Dee's injuries had all been external; lacerations, burns.

Kenny glanced down. The fact that he hadn't dressed up at all for this made Butters feel a little weird next to him. Thanksgiving was a _Sunday best_ sort of day at his house, and he'd stuck with that tradition. White button-down, black slacks, and shiny shoes he'd left at the door upon request. Kenny, on the other hand, had stuck with his usual; orange parka, ratty jeans. He'd unzipped the coat when they came inside, but he didn't take it off or remove the hood from his head, the fur lining obscuring the spray of messy blond hair he had. Beneath he had a faded yellow scarf that hung around his neck, and a well-loved gray shirt that had been patched at least three times and stained much more than that. Heavy boots had also been left behind, and his toes stuck out through holes in his socks.

Then Kenny smiled, and it didn't feel so weird anymore. Different was okay. "Nah, give 'em a sec."

The door opened. Kenny faced forward and grinned. Butters turned, too, and was faced with Dee in one of his fairly common outfits; hat, T-shirt, and cargo pants. It was a getup that landed him between himself and Kenny- the three ran the spectrum of _church_ to _not leaving my room today._

He didn't even notice at first.

There was a pause, awkward. Dee was... _anxious._ It was on his face, the way his jaw was tight and his eyes were a little too wide. Butters figured it had to be because the house was so full of people he barely knew; Kenny had explained to him how Dee didn't really know his family at all. It _had_ to be scary to suddenly have so many new people in your house. Heck, Butters was known to get a bit spun up from just _one_ relative visiting because his grandmother was _terrifying_ in every conceivable way.

"Hey dude." Kenny greeted with his smirk, turning and slipping by him to enter. Butters waited until Dee stepped aside, waving a hand that welcomed.

Butters got maybe three steps in, the door shutting behind him, when it struck him. Something about Dee was _different. Not_ usual. _Out of place._

He turned around to look at his friend again. To examine his anxious face as he remained by the door, his hand lingering after he'd secured the lock to keep his cousins out. Nothing looked particularly different there- his hair was still a curly red mess- one that would have fallen to his shoulder-blades if he hadn't contained it with a black knit hat, but the way he wore it let his bangs spill out all the same. Green eyes stared from beneath brown eyebrows that evidenced the origins of his hair color to be a dye kit of some kind- all that was the same as always. He still had some gauze wrapped around his forearm, covering healing cuts from a week and a half ago and protecting stitches used to keep the lacerations closed, but that wasn't abnormal. Dee was scrappy; this was hardly the first time Butters had seen him wrapped up for something.

He blinked. Maybe the T-shirt was the weird part? But he saw Dee wear shirts like this in gym class every day since middle school had started, when his usual big blue hoodie would have gotten him in trouble for not following dress code. Butters still remembered how _surprised_ he'd been the first time, though, since he'd always assumed Dee was kinda _chunky_ under his bulky every-day wear. Instead, it turned out, he was a pretty small dude who liked to wear big clothes.

That's when it hit him.

Dee's chest looked different. It was usually... well, _flat._

Today it was not.

Kenny started laughing somewhere behind him. It made his face color up, and he had to assume it was some kind of joke his friends had planned together- so he laughed, too. A shaky little chuckle as he ended up staring at the apparent appearance of one of his friends with-

"Dee, are you wearing f-fake boobies?"

 _They look pretty real._

Kenny snorted, and started laughing harder, plopping himself down on the edge of Dee's bed as he put a hand over his mouth to contain himself. Dee shot the tall beanpole of a boy a glare.

"They're not fake, dude." Kenny informed once he got ahold of himself enough to speak. "Dee decided that... well, _she_ wanted to tell you the truth about this."

 _She?_

Butters looked at Dee again. He- _she-?_ They were looking back at him, and there was no joking smile or laughing. No, no, Dee had a face that could speak without speaking, expressive in a way that Butters found easy to read. The anxiety he'd read before had morphed into a sort of plea with big green eyes and a tight mouth that meant to beg. In his head, it said _I'm sorry for keeping it a secret. Please believe me. This isn't a joke._

"Whoa, fellas... _fellas,_ I- but, Dee, you use the little boys room, and-" He shook his head, working through a couple years worth of memories. Girls didn't _hang out_ with guys, and they didn't act like Dee! Dee farted, texted around links when good porn without viruses was found, and laid logs in the boys bathroom without flushing to gross out classmates! Dee got into fights in the playground, and sat with other guys at lunch, and didn't dress cute or wear make-up. Dee didn't hang out with the girls, and seemed to actively avoid them whenever things got spun up in that sector of the student body. If Dee was a girl, why did she spend all this time preforming everything that constituted being a boy?

Was it all an act, something she _pretended_ for the past couple of years?

 _Did he know Dee at all?_

"Oh, _hamburgers-"_

He felt Kenny's hand on his shoulder. The tall boy had gotten back to his feet while Butters's brain had been locking up in confusion. Grasped, he found himself pulled a little bit, and then a lanky arm slid around him. Kenny slouched forward, his other hand coming around to put a finger up, wagging it at Butters and getting his full attention away from staring at Dee as if they were some kind of unknown specimen in a lab. "Calm down, dude; it's okay."

"B-but- Dee doesn't- _you don't act like a girl."_ Butters addressed Dee directly, trying to give words to the confused tumble of thoughts.

She winced, like he'd smacked her, shoulders rising a little bit in a subtle flinch.

"What does that mean?" Kenny asked him pointedly.

"Huh? Whaddya mean? The girls all pack together, an' they're pretty, an' they go shopping, an' they all sit together, an' they make lists an' gossip and-"

" _Act like girls?"_ Kenny responded with brows arched high but the lids of his eyes narrowed, creating a testing expression. "I had trouble with this too, dude- but _we_ don't decide what makes someone a boy or a girl. _They do. Performance isn't gender._ Dee acts like Dee, and she wanted to tell you this about herself because you've been a good friend to us, and she _trusts you."_

That struck him. This wasn't the first time Kenny and Dee had confronted Butters with a secret; he was the first person to know that they were dating, after all. He still remembered meeting up by Stark's Pond, the pair of them holding hands as a gentle way of letting him know why Dee was turning _him_ down for the homecoming dance; the fact that they and Kenny were going out in secret. It was because of Butters that the secret pair were actually able to go to the dance together, but not as a couple. Instead they'd gone as a group of friends, with him covering for them. Dee and Kenny hung out a _lot_ with Butters as their ostensible third wheel, turning things that mighta looked like dates into stuff that looked like _just some guy friends hanging out-_ stuff like walking around the park, getting food, and going to the movies.

Honestly, it was the longest Butters had hung out with any group without getting picked on or made to do something humiliating or gross. There was a part of him that had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, expecting a prank or something terrible to happen. _This_ felt like it had to be it... but there was Dee, staring at him again, and either wearing the best poker face in the history of the universe or genuinely desperate for him to believe that this was real.

"Does anyone else know?" Butters asked in a small voice.

He watched Dee's posture melt. Square shoulders that had been stiff coming down, and a long exhale leaving her in an audible sigh of relief. Exhaustion was accompanied by a small smile that anyone could read.

 _Thank you._

"Wendy guessed it the day she moved in." Kenny responded with a chuckle, leading Butters over to have a sit on the edge of the bed where Kenny had been before, joining him with a punctuated _flopping_ of his person in surrender to gravity. "And Dee told me after the first day of school this year."

Butters watched in some mild amount of wonder as Dee took steps over to her rolling chair in front of her computer, turning it and plopping into it as if she'd just run a marathon. She sat like she always did; slouched over so far her butt nearly hung off the seat. Literally nothing had changed about her, and yet Butters could not stop looking for signs that she was somehow different aside from the obvious.

He ducked his head when Kenny ruffled his hair, laughing again. " _Dude,_ you're staring."

"S-sorry!" He squealed, tucking his hands into his lap and focusing his eyes on his knuckles; he couldn't stare if he didn't look. "I just... uh... can I ask a question?"

"Go for it." Kenny welcomed, covering for Dee's inarticulate state as he frequently did.

"How..." He paused, and then looked up at Dee again. "How did you make your boobies disappear?"

 _That_ got laughter from both of them. Kenny's was free, a barked spurt as he leaned back a second before coming back to his seated position. Dee's was snorted behind a hand that clapped over her mouth, muffling the noise.

"Through the strange black magic that is a _binder."_ Kenny intoned dramatically. "It squishes 'em down and helps Dee pass when she's gotta wear something lighter than her hoodie."

"Pass?" Butters looked back up to Dee quizzically. "Pass what?"

" _Pass as a boy."_ Kenny rephrased. "Like during gym and shit."

Dee nodded along, approving of the phrasing, though she did so with a grimace. Butters got the sense that while the binder helped with _appearances,_ it probably hurt to keep something constricting on during gym class when running and such were expected.

"Dee's worried she can't keep it a secret for much longer... wearing the binder all the time can fuck you up six ways to Sunday. So far she's just been letting people keep their assumptions, but she knows once she starts _looking_ like a girl to people, it's gonna be a big deal." Kenny looked back to Butters, slipping from his role as translator and speaking to him, dude-to-dude. "She wanted you in her corner before that happened- back-up, y'know? So when everyone is yelling at her to _act like a girl_ or shit like that, she's got people who won't be assholes about it. Think you can handle that, dude?"

Butters was quiet a moment, realizing what was really being asked of him here. It wasn't as complicated as he made it out to be in his head- and the end of the day, what Dee wanted from him was... well, something he was very good at. _She wanted him to be kind to her._

That thought got him to smile, and his nod was so enthusiastic it got his whole upper body to bob. "No problem, fella- _ah- uh- buddies?"_

Dee waved her hand at him, air expelled out of her nose as she grinned in a silent laugh. _Fellas is fine, I don't care._

* * *

Thanksgiving chaos was the order of the day when the trio finally went downstairs to get food. Things had been set up buffet style in the kitchen, and people were invited to eat wherever they could park their butts. Dee's various cousins had been arranged by their parents to gather in the living room, keeping their mess contained to a single location [and single rug that would likely be thrown out after the fact], while adults resigned themselves to standing room only and surrendered seats like the couch to the grandparent generation. When she, Butters, and Kenny passed through the line to get plates and food, it was fairly easy for them to slip upstairs again without garnering the notice of anyone who might want to keep them downstairs to socialize. The errant _squawk_ of one of the toddlers crying _unfair_ as the adolescents were spied slipping back up the stairs was just another noise, one the kid was yelled at for instead of their complaint being addressed.

Dee mildly suspected that her parents knew _full well_ she and her friends had escaped, and allowed it due to sympathy. They were adults, they were the ones who invited the family here after she had taken action to end the continuous attempts by the government to surveil and kidnap them. Adults who still, after explanations, suspected their kid might have some kind of _cheesing_ problem... and though they were extremely wrong, her sudden gaining of a new cat without their permission certainly did not help suspicions.

Mom was worried, but Dad was the bulwark of understanding. He'd defended her right to, for lack of a better term, _be a person who made decisions._ If her decision was to adopt a cat, have a few select friends over during holiday chaos, and hide in her room... well, he'd let her go, and Mom would sigh and deal with it as he insisted it was for the best between smiling at relatives.

Getting back to her room, she returned the door to its locked state while balancing a full plate of food on the other hand. Butters and Kenny both sat on the floor, and she joined them. Said cat, who had been in hiding since her friends arrived, poked his butterscotch nose out from beneath her bed and meowed plaintively, no doubt just as interested in turkey and gravy as anyone else.

"Oh hey, it's that fucker." Kenny smirked, looking over as the fluffy beast emerged, slinking forward with his nose working furiously. "Uh, _Junior_ is what you decided to call him, right?" He asked, looking back to her.

 _Cartman got his official name noted as **Cartman Junior,** since he was with me during registration at the vet's. I'll stick with Junior. _She nodded a bit, crawling a hand on the carpeted floor and skittering it this way and that to get the cat's attention... but getting to her meant crossing between the boys, and the feline appeared unwilling. He kept his belly low, and instantly dashed back towards the bed when Butters reached out a hand to attempt to pet the animal.

"Easy dude, he's shy." Kenny snickered. "You gotta let cats come to you."

"Can I feed him some turkey?" Butters asked, staring at the animal with wide eyes that desperately wanted to appease the feline so that he could pet him. He looked first to Kenny, who shrugged, not knowing Dee's ruling on the subject. Next he looked to Dee, who frowned sternly.

 _Fuck no, the son of a bitch gets the runs when you feed him people food. I hate cleaning that shit outta the litter box... and his fluffy butt-fur, for that matter._

"Awe... darn."

Despite this, Junior meowed again, slinking close once more to sniff at Butters's elbow, his tail swishing across the carpet as he did so. He rose up a little, following his nose to peer over the boy's arm as he held statue-still, not wanting to scare the kitty off unless he tried to steal something off of his Thanksgiving plate. Slowly, very slowly, it looked like he just might relax a tiny bit, his ears coming up and forward and his body not clinging so tightly to the floor.

In the rapt silence, someone's phone vibrated, the cat spooked, and he disappeared back under the bed.

" _Dang!"_ Butters uttered like he were actually cursing, and Kenny snickered while Dee fumbled out her phone. It was hers that went off, and checking her scuffed and scratched screen let her know that Wendy had shot her a text. Eyebrows arched as she read it.

[Received, 3:44] Hey, sorry if I'm interrupting your holiday, but could we meet up ASAP?  
[Received, 3:35] It's about the folder.

 _The folder._ That was code for the stack of documents Dee made sure Wendy got; copies of the information packet the good Doc Kartwright had delivered.

 _The data from when her parents were studied by the government. **From the facility where she was born.**_

They'd agreed to never refer to it directly in electronic communication; Kartwright didn't trust that their messages weren't being monitored by someone, even if the main Agency that dealt with this shit had been made to properly fuck off. The woman may have been a somewhat paranoid CDC agent with a gun, but she was also the only federal employee on their side right now... her advice was accepted as good advice. Wendy had been trusted with a copy because Dee certainly didn't have the mental skills to skim through all the fucking shit in those folders and draw any meaningful conclusions. If she couldn't punch it, it wasn't her problem... that's _why_ she had a team of friends she could lean on with this crap.

She supposed she could have asked Kartwright to read the files and give her the cliff-notes; the woman _was_ a legitimate scientist... but Dee didn't _fully_ trust her. She'd apparently come out to South Park for her own reasons, besides delivering the data, and would not share the details with 'a bunch of kids with mild delusions of grandeur'- so they both had their secrets to keep, _and_ their own work to do.

 _Sometimes a little paranoia is healthy._

"- _dang it she's spaced again-_ Dee, come back to earth!"

Her shoulders jolted, and she blinked a few times to look up and find that Junior had found his courage to go _around_ the boys and try to get to her plate while she was off in la-la land, and that the only thing preventing the cat from licking up the well of gravy in her mashed potatoes was Kenny extending his leg out across the floor to create a barrier between skittish cat and delicious dinner.

"Are you okay?" Butters asked earnestly, eyes as big as saucers. She didn't usually space in front of him- then again, they usually spent time with him when they were _ignoring_ the heavy shit to act like regular kids.

Her mouth actually opened as if she were going to verbally respond. She then snapped it shut, and passed her phone over to Kenny. Butters got a look while it was in transit.

" _Ah, shit."_ Kenny huffed as Junior put a paw on his leg, looking like he might chance a hop over.

"Folder? What's Wendy talking about?" Butters asked.

Kenny looked to Dee. He knew, but whether or not he explained was not his call.

She winced, unsure. Sure, she wanted to trust Butters with more- that's what today had been all about... but she felt like they'd dropped a _lot_ on him today. Adding on the whole _government experimentation thing_ might be a little much.

 _If you can find a way to phrase it that won't make his brain ooze outta his ears, go for it._

"Dee, are you in trouble?" Butters pressed as Kenny bumped up his leg, spooking Junior but not quite driving the cat all the way back to his hiding spot. He skittered off a few steps, then rounded and began nosing up again. "... did you fall behind in school? Is Wendy helping you catch up?"

She and Kenny shared a glance. She supposed an ominous mention of a _folder_ would get that reaction from an average student. It would make a convenient lie...

"Nah, it's not like that." Kenny shook his head. "Just some heavy shit going on with her and her family right now- we're pretty sure Dee's got legit superpowers."

She blinked as Butters's expression opened up from worry to surprise, but also excitement. _"REALLY?"_

Junior bolted back under the bed, and Kenny laughed. Dee found herself with a faint chuckle behind a closed smirk.

 _Leave it to Kenny to save me from myself. **Again.**_

* * *

 _:THE AUTHOR'S CORNER:_

HOLY HELL IT'S BEEN A COUPLE MONTHS. HELLO FRIENDS.

I decided this fic needed to open with some shippy goodness, because I'm prolly gonna end up dipping back into the horror pot. Also... _Butters._

Also Dee being a flawed human being who frequently underestimates people and has some serious trust issues. Kenny is many things; a liar? He is not. He won't let her do that shit just cause she's scared.

A heads up that my lovely just got back from deployment; I suspect updates will be slow as I adjust to him being back in the house. In the meantime and between time, y'all are welcome to hit up my Tumblr [same username as here], where I draw art for the story, answer asks as Dee and co, and post a _lot_ of adorable animal pictures.

Also, _please-_ if you are reading this, take a second to review. Every little bit of feedback is precious to me, and it lets me know that this just-for-funsies story is still worth all the effort I put into it... which is honestly more than I expected to. XD

Thank you, thank you _so friggin' much._

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	2. We've Expanded The Team, Damnit

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – We've Expanded the Team, Damnit::**

[Received, 3:58] Sorry, I can't get away from the house right now. Packed with relatives. Stotches and McCormicks here, too.  
[Received, 3:59] Can you come here?  
[Received, 3:59] … bring rope, maybe. You can climb through the window and avoid the crowd.

Wendy had to stare at the chain of texts she got back from Dee. She'd heard about the group her family had ended up with for Thanksgiving back when it was just a _plan_ to get a bunch of her clan together after the government had finally laid the fuck off. She hadn't imagined that it would be enough chaos that she'd be encouraged to bring a rope and attempt entry through a second-floor window as opposed to the front door.

Then again, she also didn't question Dee's judgment in the matter. The last thing _she_ wanted was to be accosted by far-flung relatives of Dee's and be delayed in the front-room by cousins who were bored as the adults settled in for football.

She also had a ready supply of black nylon rope, specifically part of the Call Girl load-out she kept secured in a small safe she'd convinced her parents to buy for her- insisting that one was never too young to secure their personal documents like social security card, birth certificate, and passport in a _fireproof locked box that only she knew the code to._

Granted, she kept that stuff in there, too- prudent was prudent.

So she arrived outside Dee's house after making excuses to her own family; specifically using Stan as a scapegoat and telling them that he _needed_ someone with him right now who wasn't a raging alcoholic and throwing his father specifically under the bus to make the plea... though, she didn't know what was going on at the Marsh household right now. For all she knew, Randy _was_ drunk off his ass and ranting at his children in the most abusive manner about the deterioration of American family values. Then again, if he was, she really suspected Shelly would be the first to show the man a knuckle sandwich for his efforts; that girl had gotten _dangerous_ since she'd become a rare freshmen on the varsity high school volleyball team for her downright _deadly_ style. Turned out she could punch a ball just as well as she punched faces, and her knuckles were already hardened from years of being a scrappy, angry young woman.

[Sent, 4:18] I'm here.

Wendy sent the text as she wandered in the space between houses; Dee's bedroom window was on the side, just beyond the back of the detached garage, and it swept open as Wendy stared up from the ground with a coiled rope in her off-hand. A moment later, Dee's head popped out to peer down and briefly wave before tossing down... was... was that a sack of marbles? Into the snow.

Wendy blinked at the item for a moment before she realized what it was for- a weight so she could throw an end of her rope up. The sack of marbles had a string that she'd be able to easily knot the end of her rope around. _Smart._

 _Little too smart for Dee._

"... Kenny's idea?" Wendy called up as she picked up the sack, tying the knot and testing it before playing out a length of rope and giving it a spin. She was fairly certain she'd be able to chuck it with some accuracy.

"How'd you know?"

Kenny's head was the next to appear in the open window, with a broad grin to mirror Dee's somewhat soured expression at not being given any credit.

"Just a guess." She smirked. _Dee solved puzzles by_ _ **breaking shit**_ _the majority of the time._ Every now and then she was known to piece shit together, but that shit was usually LARP weapons made out of heavier materials than foam so that she could _break more shit with greater leverage and reach._ If something actually _clever_ was going on, it was usually because the young man behind Mysterion was involved in some capacity. "Okay, back off a little- I'm gonna toss this up and I don't wanna hit anyone in the head."

Spinning the sack of marbles up to an appropriate speed, Wendy found herself rather _smug_ as the toss flew true and she let the rest of the slack rope slip from her hands until she only held the end of it. Despite her warning, however, she still heard a cry of pain from the room above... and it wasn't Dee or Kenny.

"... _Butters?"_ She asked. "Oh, _God,_ did I hit you?"

Sure enough, the poor blond boy was the next to appear in the window, rubbing his nose with one hand and holding the bag of marbles with the other. "'S okay, Wendy, I know you didn't mean it." He assured, laughing it off. "Sure smarts though!"

"Is there anyone _else_ up there?" Wendy demanded, honestly surprised. Dee's family usually had an unbreakable _open door_ policy that applied to all of her friends... exceptions must have been made in the light of nosy cousins who likely did not respect the sanctity of the adolescent desire for a _private room_ away from all the noise.

"N-Nope, just us fellas!" Butters reported as he stopped holding his nose. It was a little red, but not bleeding.

"It's cool Butters, Wendy knows." Kenny's voice, a little distant. "Gimme that, we gotta rig it through the clamp to pull her up..."

 _Butters knows Dee is a girl? When did that happen? Wait a minute-_

" _Clamp?"_ Wendy blinked, finding the _how_ she'd be ascending up the side of a house to be the more interesting subject right now. She could figure out Butters's _security clearance later_ She'd worn the right kind of gloves on the assumption that she'd be _climbing._

"Yeah." Kenny's head reappeared as Butters disappeared. "Dee's got all the stuff she uses for making shit in her closet- we rigged a makeshift pulley out of a heavy-duty clamp and an old bit of PVC pipe with some grease on the inside. You wearing a belt?"

"Plastic, not leather." Wendy responded, getting the plan instantly. "I'll loop my end through all my belt loops and tie it over the belt; should be secure enough."

"Awesome." Kenny grinned before he disappeared back beyond the window. A few minutes later, Wendy found herself being heaved up the side of the house, and was soon crawling through the open window with Dee grasping her by the shoulders and helping her flop over onto the bed parked just beneath the sill. Upon arrival she was able to see the system they'd rigged- first that the hard corners of the sill had been rounded with another section of pipe that had been split and opened to act as a bumper the rope could easily slide over, and that the clamp Kenny mentioned had been anchored to the edge of Dee's open closet. Kenny and Butters had been beyond the cobbled together pulley, making up the force that had yanked her up the side of the house. Meanwhile, it appeared that Dee had been positioned between the pulley and the window, risking rope burn to act as a manual safety catch in case one of them lost their grip or the pulley gave.

Thankfully, no disasters had occurred and she was safely up... and getting down would be a _much_ easier proposition.

" _Why didn't you tell me you had people here?"_ Wendy demanded as she sat up, unraveling the knot in the rope that had secured it around her hips and teasing it back out of her belt loops, tugging her shirt down from its ridden-up after she unzipped her coat. Dee had busied herself with tugging the hard plastic of the pipe off of her window sill so she could shut it against the creeping cold, and Kenny had gone to release the clamp from the edge of the closet while Butters coiled up the rope.

"She told you our families were here- I saw the texts." Kenny smirked dryly. "You shoulda guessed we'd be hanging out."

"... fair point." Wendy conceded after a second, letting Butters draw up the loose end of the rope as he finished coiling it. "That was a pretty cool trick, though. You always find ways to make stuff out of nothing." She marveled at Kenny.

"Butters gets credit for this one." Kenny deflected with a snicker, the clamp releasing from the closet edge to reveal it had left a mark in the wall. _Oops._ He had a seat on the floor, tucking the item into the closet for now and leaning back on the wall as if to hide the damage done to it before Dee could turn around and see it."Kid is crafty as _fuck."_

" _Awee, you guys."_ Butters turned bashful instantly, blushing as Wendy took her rope back. "It wasn't nothin, just figured it would be easier to make a pulley, and Dee's always got lots of scraps in her closet."

Dee's head whipped around after the window slid closed, coming to the edge of her bed and letting her butt down with enough force to bounce, feet hitting the floor so her elbows could plant on her knees while she stared rather intently at Butters. Wendy read her look pretty fast.

 _What the **hell** do you know about my closet? _Is what that face said.

Wendy nearly rolled her eyes. _Sensitive much?_

"You remember that one time, a couple years ago- the food festival, where we..." Butters trailed off a little, glancing to Wendy and Kenny and then giving off a nervous laugh. "Y'know, with the paper towels?"

Dee blinked, and then had to cover her mouth as she nodded, holding in a laugh that made her cheeks turn red with the force of refraining. Her eyes screwed shut as her shoulders shook.

"Paper towels?" Wendy asked. This must have been for a while ago, she didn't know about it. What _food festival?_ The last food fest she remembered in South Park had been right after the whole _Mitch Conner becoming Mayor_ thing where they got the trio of Mysterion, Buttlord, and Call Girl together for the first time. After the dust settled from that, there had been a food festival in South Park that had ended in _disaster..._

" _Oh my god, did you guys have something to do with that?"_ Wendy asked in horror.

"They did." Kenny confirmed somewhat sternly, looking as Butters had a smirk of mischief and Dee still hadn't recovered from her fit. Mysterion _had_ been the one to put a stop to that particular mess, though the culprits had never been brought to justice. Still, as much as Kenny _tried_ to look severe about an old fiasco that had pitted him against the other two, the facade cracked for him to laugh as well. " _Fuck! Guys, do you remember the look on Cartman's face when sewage backed up into his house?"_

Dee sputtered behind her hand, kicking her legs and scaring a cat out from beneath the bed, who then bolted into her open closet.

"You guys are _disgusting-_ you flooded half of South Park with that stunt!" Wendy crowed.

"You gotta admit, Wendy, it did sow quite a bit of _chaos."_ Butters grinned- no one could argue it was off-brand. "A-and Buttlord needed a break after all that do-goodin' didn't change a lick with his dad screwin' his mom an' all. I just let 'em hit for the other team for a while."

" _You broke the sewer!"_ She crowed at him.

Kenny fell onto his back next to the open closet door, cackling. Air buzzed out between Dee's fingers.

"Wait a minute- Butters- you... you know Dee is a girl now?" Wendy quested, cocking her head a bit and getting to a subject that would hopefully be less hysterical to the rest of the room.

"Yep!" Butters nodded, seeming quite proud of himself. "I-I mean, I just found out a bit ago, but... uh... I'm mighty honored that Dee's trustin' me enough to let me know. Makes a lotta sense, now, why she's so pretty an' all."

"But you just called Buttlord a _he."_

"Well, _yeah-_ we all played _characters_ when we played Superheroes. If Buttlord were a _she, she'd_ be a _Buttlady."_

If the laughter in the wings had been calming down, that whipped it right back up again. Kenny rolled into a ball on the floor, clutching his gut.

"Or... or maybe a _Buttbaroness?"_ Butters muttered, seeming to give it some concerted thought. "Now that I think about it, what's Buttlord a lord of anyway? 'S a title, but who gave it to 'em? Dee, I think your backstory has a plot hole..."

"... _ho boy..."_ Wendy muttered as Dee flopped onto her side on her own bed. "Guys, that's _not really_ the concern right now, if we could pull ourselves together..."

" _She- she's right-"_ Kenny gasped from the floor, dragging himself upright and wiping a tear from his eye. " _Holy fuckin' shit though you guys..._ swear to God the next time you pull something that's gonna make Cartman scream like that, get me in on it, okay?"

"B-but you beat us up for it." Butters stuttered, turning to look at Kenny. "I-I mean, _Mysterion beat up Professor Chaos..._ an' I got grounded fer having a black eye for picture day."

"Maybe Chaos should have thought about that and taken a break the week before picture day." Kenny smirked with a shrug. "Mysterion was just doing his job- _justice can't take breaks for photo ops."_

"Unless it's for the franchise." Wendy dropped in pointedly as Dee slowly recovered, taking deep and slow breaths and sitting back upright. "Guys, _really,_ can we reminisce later? I didn't just climb through a window for my _health_ y'know... uh... but- Butters, have you been... _briefed?"_

"On how Dee's got superpowers on the internet that make people go nuts for things she posts? Kenny was just tellin' me about it." He confirmed, deciding to sit in Dee's office chair while the girl appeared to be comfortable where she was seated on her bed next to Wendy. "He was just gettin' to the bit where it's like talkin' to people sometimes makes them go a bit coo-coo and stuff, which is why she won't talk even after we all heard her sing at the homecoming dance- There's no tellin' whose immune and who might go nuts."

"Well, the homecoming dance was a specifically doctored voice aiming for a targeted effect; it was the first experiment into compelling certain behavior. With her _raw voice,_ however... yes, that's right." Wendy nodded a little. "Kenny and I have had full conversations with her without strange effects, but... well, I don't suppose you'll ever forget Agent Russel?"

The laughter was gone from the room. Both Kenny and Dee winced at the mention. Butters moved a hand to his side where he'd been shot by the government agent who had come to South Park. He was a man who had quite violently lost his mind after being apprehended by the police, and proceeded to escape custody and go on a shooting rampage that had ended at the Stotch house.

"D-Don't suppose I will." Butters agreed with a little nod.

"Dee told him to _forget everything he'd learned in South Park._ Best we can tell, that command made his brain _eat its own ass_ until he was delirious and violent. She didn't know that's what would happen, but..."

Glances were shared between the three people in the room who knew about this shit. Dee looked down, frowning deeply.

Wendy remembered that Dee had skipped out on trick or treating with everyone to go to the hospital with Butters, to sit and wait until he got out of surgery. She knew how much Dee still felt guilty about that, but she had to assume Butters being here meant he was _in the loop_ now. Dee wouldn't have asked her over if that wasn't the case.

"She also kinda broke time a little bit to try and save your ass." Kenny confessed where Dee couldn't do so herself. "There was a version of reality for a bit there where you _died_ in your living room before the EMTs could arrive."

Butters seemed shaken by that information, his face going a little white as wide eyes studied the floor for a long while.

"I... I remember that." He muttered lowly. "But I kinda don't? It's... they're both there. It comes an' goes." He fumbled, eyebrows knitting.

"Memory echo." Wendy explained. "Kenny and I are pretty used to them- the further it goes into the past, the harder it will be to remember the other timeline... but flashes sometimes come back like de'ja'vu or in dreams. Keeping a journal sometimes helps with the _am I losing my mind_ feeling. We pool ours to keep a record of what's happened in deleted timelines, in case we learned anything important in aborted alternate versions of events- I can invite you to the Google Doc if you'd like."

Butters went quiet again, this time for quite a bit longer. Wendy could see him chewing on his lip, his hands coming together in his lap to fidget as he processed that. Then, as if he suddenly crashed back to earth all at once, he became bolt upright in the office chair and looked out at the assembled group.

"W-wait- so, you're like- _the real thing?_ You three, you do this super hero thing but with real villains with real guns and no make-believe powers or super computers or character classes or recovery items or _nothing?"_

"Pretty much." Kenny shrugged, once again leaning on the fucked up part of the wall. Dee still hadn't noticed it. Wendy wondered when she would, and how pissed she'd be about it. "Most of the fuckin' _magic_ comes from Wendy over there- she was always legit as a fucking New York stripper with the hacking and shit."

"Colorful, Kennith." Wendy smirked.

" _Hey!"_ He glared from beneath the clumpy fake fur trim of his hood.

There was one person on this earth that got a pass on calling him _Kennith,_ and she wasn't in this room... and Wendy knew that. She smirked and added; "That and _time traveling farts_ have kept the group alive for a hot second, but apparently that's a _skill_ learnable by anyone with powerful enough gas and iron-clad ass control." Or so Dee claimed- she also claimed that it was _Morgan Freeman_ who taught her the ways of time farting. Sometimes Wendy didn't know when Dee was fucking with her.

Speaking of, Dee still hadn't looked up form her own knees. Not since Russel had been brought up. Wendy nudged her, and the girl's shoulders drew up as she shrank back a touch.

"That's... gotta be so _stressful."_ Butters marveled.

" _Huh?"_ Was the stereo reaction from Wendy and Kenny. Dee looked up in a non-verbal version of the same reaction. Wendy hadn't expected that- as she understood it, both Stan and Kyle were regularly complaining about how _cool_ it was and how _unfair_ it was that they weren't included in the vigilante stuff anymore. They straight up _didn't tell_ Cartman for fear that he'd fuck shit up with his stupid need to be the center of attention. To hear someone assess it properly was... different.

"Well, I just think that it's gotta get hard- I mean, I- _u-uh, Professor Chaos_ takes breaks all over the place because it's a high-pressure job and it's hard to do it all the time. Golly, if you couldn't just hang up the cape and put the costume away once in a while, I think a person might go _nuts_ after a bit. J-just, go to pieces over all the stress, dontcha think? And with government agents and time travel and not bein' able to talk cause it might make people coo-coo and real bullets and people gettin' _really, actually hurt?_ That's gotta be some _scary s-shit,_ ain't it?" Butters was talking to all of them in a way, but he was really directly talking to _Dee,_ staring at her with wide eyes that had opened to a lot of new things today. "... _are you okay?"_

Wendy looked. Dee was staring back. The girl seemed to be in shock.

She gave her another nudge. Dee audibly inhaled, and then got up off the edge of her bed to cross the room.

"Uh..." Wendy uttered.

"Dude-" Kenny started.

"Eh?" Butters questioned, rather briefly, before he was lifted up off of the office chair in what could be best described as a _bear hug._

Wendy shared a glance with Kenny, both of them letting out faint chuckles.

"Awee, it's okay buddy..." Butters soothed. "I'm here for ya."

* * *

A break had been taken. Kenny had been sent downstairs to return plates and retrieve desserts as adults settled in to watch football and kids ran amok in the back yard. Alyssa's dad had briefly stopped him to ask if everything was okay, to which he assured they were doing fine upstairs and didn't need anything. Satisfied, or maybe just distracted by entertaining, he was easily released and allowed to proceed upstairs with a glass dish that had been loaded up with one of everything on offer back in the kitchen. Slices of both classic pumpkin pie and a less traditional strawberry rhubarb pie sat side-by side and shared the same massive glob of whipped cream, mildly crowded by a pile of decorated cookies that covered the range from chocolate chip to weird white balls of sugar that were apparently called divinity. Lemon bars had been a contribution from one of the visiting families, and another had brought one of those store-bakery containers of brownie bites. Finally, in the center of the plate was a glob of 'dirt pudding'- chocolate pudding covered in Oreo cookie dust with random gummy worms hiding in the mix.

Really, Kenny could have been forced to watch Dee's cousins all afternoon, and this shit would have made it _completely worth it._ He'd spied Karen outside with the other kids, and seeing her face smeared with the remains of chocolate and grinning instantly made his day about 90% better. The other 10% was seeing Kevin leaning sulkily against the back fence, but still dutifully watching over their little sister. _They'd talked before leaving the house._

Arriving back, it appeared that Dee had finally managed to tempt Junior out of the closet, though the cat had instantly taken refuge _inside_ her T-shirt, with only his tail hanging out from the lower hem. Coming with a tray of sugary treats, the group re-located to crowd Dee's bed, Dee looking as if she were cupping a baby bump as she prevented a cat from sliding out of her shirt in the process.

"Okay- so what's the _big deal,_ Wendy?" Kenny opened up, snatching a lemon bar for himself. He'd been really into citrus lately. "You said you had news about the folder."

"I did." She confirmed, brushing a few strands of black hair back as she leaned back against the wall just before the window. She reached for a classic chocolate chip cookie, and used it to scoop the pudding in the middle of the plate. "It's been... _confusing work,_ honestly. The majority of the content has been redacted- blacked out with a marker. If I had the originals I might be able to get results with some tools, but right now the majority of what I've been able to piece together has come from hand-written notes in the margins. I think I've identified three doctors- two who were doing observation, and one who was analyzing samples. They argued a _lot_ on the edges of the forms." She chomped on her pudding-laden cookie, holding the treat with her mouth as she busied her hands to retrieve her phone, flicking through photos until she had something to show the class. Once she did, one hand returned to hold her cookie as she bit down.

Kenny leaned forward to peer at the picture as Wendy chewed. It appeared she had nothing less than a _conspiracy wall_ in her room, with loose leafs of paper from the folder pinned up. At least there weren't any colored lines of string that he could see. This specific photo was close enough to identify handwriting in the margin of a page that was more black boxes than words; messy, loopy cursive that he had to squint at before he could identify words. _'Are you kidding? This sample is obviously contaminated. Try again.'_ Was at one point in the page, and lower down on the other side was a different script. Block letters and all capitols, as if the person meant to shout on the page. _'MORON, YOU KEPT THEM IN THE SAME ROOM? SHE'S PREGNANT.'_

He scoffed faintly. He could guess what the redacted report was about, and the result was currently sitting next to him; Dee, who had to take a break from soothing a skittish cat inside her shirt to also peer at the image.

"What's this folder about?" Butters quested blithely.

"Government kidnapped Dee's parents before Dee was born. They've got social media powers too- less potent." Kenny reported, chomping into his lemon bar as Butters broke off the tip of the pumpkin pie slice and shoved it into his own mouth. "She was born at the facility where they kept 'em, then they broke out."

 _On the run since day one- kinda catchy. Better than the bullshit backstory Cartman came up with._

"And I'm guessing they only got the opportunity because the plan was to _move_ them." Wendy informed, the rest of her cookie having vanished and swiping through a few more photos of her wall. "Check this one out."

Block-letters guy was back. _'P-0069 WANTS THEM. PREP TRANSPORT'_ was the scrawled instruction in the margin. A third script challenged him on the page, however- smooth letters that were easier to read but irregular in size. _'No. Way. The baby is a week old. Tell them to suck a cock.'_

Kenny snickered. His brain instantly read whatever that number was as _poo sixty-nine,_ despite it being _P zero zero six nine._ Probably a project number.

"Baby? Do they mean Dee?" Butters quested, a note of excitement in his voice.

"Yeah." Wendy nodded, taking back her phone. "They spend another _month_ of forms and reports arguing about P-0069 in the margins; sounded like someone higher up wanted all three transferred as soon as possible, but the doctors kept delaying, always referencing the baby- ah... _you."_ Wendy directly addressed Dee, who had gone tense. Kenny could feel it; she hadn't grabbed anything to eat and still remained bent forward despite having nothing to look at. It was almost as if she were taking a defensive posture despite sitting on her bed where there was nothing to fight. "It's always vague, but I get the feeling people who got sent to that didn't come back. The guy who writes in the big letters wants to do as he's told, the other two keep insisting it's cruel and delaying. I e-mailed Kartwright this morning, and when she got back to me..."

Wendy trailed off. This was the bombshell, why she wanted to talk _today._

"She said that's the project that was ongoing in the lab that Amelia was looking for out here. She doesn't know the details, she's not part of the Agency that ran it, but she's pulling strings to try and figure out exactly what it is. Apparently they had some kind of... _machine_ that they were using to experiment on powered people. Kartwright says Amelia couldn't remember enough to describe what it was meant to do, but it messed with her abilities for _sure."_

Dee's tension had not lessened. Kenny felt as if it were creeping into his own spine, and he leaned over to her to slide a hand up her back and rub her shoulders, trying to gently bring her town. This information was _horrifying,_ that there was a lab devoted to outright _experimentation_ somewhere out there in the Park County wilderness. They'd seen what it had done to Amelia Reynolds; she'd been a barely cohesive old woman who had been trying desperately to find the old lab by stealing cats and using them as her personal search party... a task made easier by her ability to communicate with them, but Dee had ultimately ended up fighting the woman in a monster made up of a multitude of felines when she proved too far gone to reason with.

Also Cartman was there. That never helped.

Dee's jaw was working- like she was chewing on the insides of her cheeks. Wendy hesitated to go on.

"You okay?" Kenny asked softly.

She nodded, red curls bouncing a little with the minute motion. The tension in her face disagreed.

He didn't blame her. Finding out that her family had been lined up for likely inhumane experiments was not a happy thought.

"One more thing." Wendy added, slowly. It attracted Dee's green eyes up, pressing in on the other girl and insisting she go on. With only a beat more to wipe crumbs from her face, she complied. "... Kartwright has been pulling strings with a guy she knows in the Agency- when she brought up P-0069, the guy actually found a recent requisition request, even though the site is supposed to be shut down. She asked for details... but he hasn't gotten back to her since."

"Requisition? Like... someone was asking for materials?" Kenny cocked his head. _Uh-oh._ "You mean someone out here is _rebuilding_ the place?"

Wendy nodded faintly. "Which means _someone_ found it and had the connections to make that request... and shut up someone looking into it."

Silence. No one knew what to say to that. No one reached for any more food. Sweet treats didn't seem as good with something that heavy in the air. It drug on, beat after beat of utter stillness.

" _Ah, hamburgers_ that doesn't sound good."

 _That's one fuckin' way to put it, Butters._

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

This chapter ended up nearly double long because apparently I needed a ton of fluff, some recap, some memories, and to describe how a MacGyver-ed pulley worked before I could get to the fucking meat of this shit. And it's not even the meat of _this_ story- it's part of the long-term arc of the entire series. This shit should have been at the _end_ of the last story but that one was already three chapters longer than I wanted it to be and I fuckin' didn't want to spend two more chapters doing the goddamn epilogue shitass.

I really did this to myself. The flow is all fucked up but damnit we're gonna roll with it because I am not going to spend time moving chapters around like a moron. _SEAT OF PANTS WRITING GO._

Also... _Butters I LOVE YOU._

Okay,

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	3. Team Dynamics

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Team Dynamics::**

"So... what's the plan?"

Butters was the next to speak in the heavy atmosphere. Wendy hadn't gone on; there was no indication that _anyone_ had a plan, so silence followed his question. Not even Kenny pitched in with one of his quick-fire ideas, as a heavy sense of _doom_ seemed to settle over the group.

"Kartwright says there's not much we can do at this point." Wendy reported, slouched over. She looked tired- like she hadn't slept decently since she'd gotten the file. _.._ she could be a true workaholic when something caught her interest. "She's trying to find other contacts in the Agency, but they have limited interaction with the CDC. She can't really _pull rank_ on anyone, and getting information out is apparently like pulling teeth. Ideally, a _copy_ of the requisition order would lead us to whomever requested it, with a delivery address and everything, but her guy dropped out of contact before he could forward that on to her."

"What about machine shops?" Butters quested, his head cocked slightly.

" _Huh?"_ Wendy cocked her head slightly, looking to him. Dee did, too, surprised that Butters was somehow immune to the entropy that was sucking all the energy out of the room.

"W-well if you're trying to build or fix something big, you need _tools,_ don't you?" He pointed out. "And space. There's loads of machine shops around South Park that let you rent space and use their equipment- why I bet hittin' the pavement and seeing if anyone is building anything strange in one or shipping parts back and forth would be a good start to an investigation... w-wouldn't it?"

He shrank slightly, just coming to the awareness that everyone was staring at him, and began to blush.

"It's a _stupid_ idea, isn't it? I'm sorry, fellas- I gotta think harder before I just open my mouth and say any little-"

"Are you _huffing_ dude?" Kenny broke in. "That's _fucking genius._ An abandoned lab wouldn't have _power-_ you can't _build_ there! Wendy, do you think you could break down likely candidates online?"

"Most shops like that are still working in paper records." She observed, energy picking back up. Dee felt the room change, her own posture rising a degree. "But I can do things the old-fashioned way; nothing wrong with an _on the ground_ investigation. It'll just take time..."

"I can help, too!" Butters enthusiastically threw in. "B-but what do we say to 'em?"

"We don't have to _say_ anything, Butters." Wendy responded with a smart shake of her head. "It'll be a shop-by-shop records investigation. I'll just break in after hours, go through their files, and take pictures of who has been renting what spaces for how long, and the charges they're running up with borrowed equipment. Most people use shop spaces like that to fix up old cars, so picking up on _odd_ things shouldn't be too tough."

"But isn't that _illegal?_ I thought you guys were doing the _hero_ thing."

"Batman flavor, Butters." Kenny interjected. "Y'know, in the cartoons where he'd break into places to get information needed for an investigation that police wouldn't be able to get without a warrant? Like that, only none of us are billionaire playboys."

Dee smirked, actually finding the energy to scoff now that the group had some direction. _Well, one of us has a **stash of Playboy magazines,** but I'm not sure that counts. _

" _Ooooooh."_ He nodded some understanding. "Does that make Buttlord _Robin?"_

 _Bitch do I **look like** I wear florescent yellow tights? _

"I think more like Nightwing- _post Disco Wing_ outfit, obviously." Wendy chimed in. "Though you're not exactly _that_ acrobatic, Dee- no offense."

 _None taken- better than someone suggesting I do **Robin cosplay.**_ As if sensing the possible thought, she turned a glare upon Kenny, who had a sly smirk on his face that she was _certain_ to be imagining exactly that. Probably the _original_ Robin design, where it was just a leotard with no pants at all.

" _What?"_ Kenny demanded with faux innocence. "C'mon, you'd look great!"

Dee shifted back in her spot, hands cradling under where Junior was still resting inside her shirt as his personal safe haven against all the strangers invading his territory. She squirmed until she got one of her legs loose from beneath her, and promptly shoved her freed foot against Kenny's butt, pitching him off balance and sending him off the edge of her bed to go crashing to the floor. Kenny went down with a yelp, laughing it off as he landed and rolled.

"Hm... maybe we should get Stan's help..." Wendy muttered, already off into planning the operation and ignoring the antics before her. "He knows a thing or two about this stuff, maybe a casual inquiry during business hours could get us somewhere- the less breaking and entering I have to do, the better."

 _He doesn't always like being involved in this sort of thing, though..._ Dee thought pensively, her lips puckering over the consideration. Kid had a lot going on right now- she wouldn't be surprised if he hit the _fuck it_ button and embraced his inner cynic for a while. Goodness knows she'd do the same if the idea of that lab being operational again didn't _put the fucking fear of the Christian Old-Testament God into her agnostic ass._

The whole deal with Kartwright's contact falling off the map right when she requested information made it even worse- it suggested the possibility of a rogue agent, out for their own ends.

The advantage of dealing with the government was that it was _big-_ it had the fatal flaw of bureaucracy slowing it down and stalling it out at critical moments. A single person or small group could act faster, more decisively- _that could be much more dangerous to deal with._

 _Fuck_ she was getting paranoid again. There was no proof of any of that; just _gut feelings_ that wanted to insist they were true as she considered nightmare scenarios. For all they knew, the requisition order was for a fucking flamethrower and the person out here was some desk jockey with a conscious who'd stumbled across the record of the abandoned lab and decided to burn it down themselves. It was _unlikely_ to be the case, but possible all the same.

Such thoughts were cut off when the foot she'd used to shove her boyfriend off the bed was seized and yanked upon. She fell onto her back, and Junior dug claws into her stomach as his hidey hole within her shirt went mobile. Wendy cried out, snatching up the tray of desserts before Dee's weight could drag it along with the bedspread, and Butters laughed as Dee was the next to take the plunge off the edge, a spooked and ruffled butterscotch cat deciding the best escape route was through the _collar_ of her shirt and squirming out with a yowl. Her face was dusted by the cat's fluffy tail as he went, darting under her computer desk as his new hiding place.

"I know few of the shop guys- they're a bunch of stand-up fellers, I bet me an' Stan can find out a few things from 'em without having to break in and take sneaky pictures of their files." Butters added, holding back a laugh but staying on topic, as Wendy put the platter back down, helping herself to another cookie. "He'll wanna know what's in it for him if I ask 'em, though."

"I'll let him know what's up." Wendy assured. "He'll be busy tomorrow afternoon, but hopefully he won't be _too_ mad at me for asking for a couple hours out of his weekend..."

Dee blinked as the planning session went on without her, her head and shoulders leaned against the side of her bed with her lower back and butt securely on the ground. Kenny was just beyond her, smirking as he still had a grip on the foot he'd taken hold of in order to drag her off.

All at once, she sensed his intent, and _glared._

 _Don't you fucking dare, I will kick you._

"You guys!" Wendy barked from above. "We're trying to get some work done! Can you pay attention?"

Both of them glanced up, and then looked at each other. Kenny pouted, but let her go.

"Yeah, yeah, keep your titties on." Kenny assured, getting back up and returning to the group. "I can help with daytime canvasing, too; it'll give me a chance to scope shit out in case any of them have installed security, and we'll be able to hit more places after hours once we've narrowed the list."

" _Wow."_ Butters marveled, starry-eyed to a degree. "You guys are _so cool,_ it's like a movie _-_ what happens when we find what we're lookin' for?"

 _That's when I come in._ Dee smiled as she unceremoniously plopped back onto the wrinkled bedspread. _Wendy's the brains, Kenny's the wit, I'm the muscle... and the one who can fart on people's faces as an interrogation tactic. Plus I owe whoever this asshole is a knuckle sandwich for ratcheting my anxiety back up to eleven._

"Call in the cavalry." Wendy translated with a giggle, gesturing between Dee and Kenny. "... which means we just gotta survive _school tomorrow,_ and then we can get started."

"Ho boy... _tomorrow._ I better be on my best behavior- last thing I want is to get grounded _now."_ Butters muttered. "Then again, my dad's been pretty nice since coming home; the painkillers make him all _mellow."_

"Dude, prescription pain meds will make _anybody_ pretty fuckin' mellow." Kenny smirked.

* * *

"Dude... you're becoming a total cat guy."

There was nothing quite like the atmosphere at the bus stop on a Friday morning. There was a sense of _almost there;_ the finish line of the week in sight, the weekend a tantalizing trophy for those who survived just one more day. In a break with her usual pattern, Dee had arrived _forth out of five_ to the stop... and when questioned why, a photo on her phone was provided as an explanation.

Specifically a picture of Junior, rolled over on his back to show the white fluff of his belly while occupying the bathroom sink, looking up with big amber eyes that appeared to say _yes? Did you need this for something?_

 _Shuttup, it was adorable and I had to take a picture._ Dee smirked begrudgingly, shrugging her shoulders at Stan's comment... which came with a reminder that the binder was back. It had to be- her favorite baggy-ass electric blue hoodie had been _ruined_ by her last misadventure and she hadn't replaced it as of yet. For now she'd defaulted to an azure shirt with a yellow star on the chest, an over-sized red flannel, and her usual outwear; a poofy black coat with fluffy fur lining and purple gloves.

 _If I keep growing in that region, it's gonna stop looking like pecs and start looking like a uni-boob. I can't bank on being a B cup for the rest of my life... certainly not if **mom** is any example. _

"What's he doing in the sink?" Kyle quested from over her shoulder, having also crowded in to look at the photo. "I thought cats hated water."

" _Yeah dude, doesn't he know you could just turn on the faucet?"_

Kenny's muffled speech, coming through his hood and scarf. The only person missing was...

" _Gais! YOU GAIS!"_

The clump loosened back into a line as Cartman approached, moving at a trot that made his ample belly jiggle beneath his red jacket. He had reddened cheeks, a sign that he'd jogged all the way from his house to the stop with urgent news for his gang.

" _Dudes-_ holy shit, you won't believe it-" He continued as he arrived among the group, gulping air and getting himself back together, evoking a specific kind of de'ja'vu for the group; it felt like it was at least once a week that Eric came running in like this with some bee in his bonnet.

It always distressed Dee when that happened- de'ja'vu usually meant _they'd done this before_ and something had gone terribly wrong, so she'd used her time-traveling ass to _undo_ it and try again. Human brains weren't made to hold multiple timelines in their memory, and would try to default to what happened in the original timeline... which made shit _very_ confusing if they were trying to fix something. Worse, South Park itself seemed to run on a sort of _repeating cycle,_ further fucking with linear perception.

It was the kind of shit that made her head hurt when she thought about it. That said, other signs of a memory echo were missing- she had no premonition of what Cartman was about to say next, no idea of what the fuck he was on about. She'd assume this was just the usual _South Park_ weirdness without any of her personal brand mixed in.

"What are you talking about, dude?" Stan took the bait first, cocking his head slightly.

"There's a new pizza place opening in South Park! They've got signs up, and a raffle for the grand opening, and- and- _they're giving away a free pizza party with all the bells and whistles, guys!_ Dining room space, six large pizzas, mascots, prize bags, desserts, arcade tickets, _all of it!"_

" _Seriously?!"_ Kenny cried out, his voice rising up enough that Dee _might_ have detected an adolescent crack.

" _Seriously!"_ Cartman shouted back, charged up about it. "We can sign up after school at the mall, the drawing is _tomorrow!"_

"Aren't you guys getting a little over-excited?" Kyle posited. "... aren't we getting a little _old_ for prize-bags and free greasy pizza?"

Silence seized the bus-stop. Eyes turned upon Kyle, who stared back evenly. Cartman approached him, and placed a hand on his shoulder before speaking very seriously. " _Keyl_ , I understand that you've been _crazy lame_ since the day your jew family cut a piece of your jew penis off... but you are _never_ too old for _free fucking pizza."_

" _Fuck you you fucking fatass!"_ Kyle snarled, shoving Cartman away from him, but without extreme violence. This was just the usual tenor of their relationship. "I just think we're almost teenagers, and maybe we shouldn't get so psyched up about a new pizzeria opening up. We're not _ten_ anymore."

"Which means _we_ can be the guys who push little kids out of the way when we want a turn at the arcade machines!" Cartman retorted victoriously. "Imagine it, _Keyl._ Imagine every time _you_ got shoved out of the way by some fucking sixth-grader, and then see _yourself_ as the sixth-grader. _You_ can be the master of the arcade. _You_ can win the tickets. _You_ can get the prizes." Cartman slid back in, putting his arm over Kyle's shoulder, his other hand sweeping out to the air as if he could take the image he was describing and project it in the air. " _Isn't it beautiful?"_

"I can't come after school."

Cartman blinked. Kyle, Dee, and Kenny all winced at Stan's statement.

" _Why the fuck not?"_ Cartman demanded, releasing Kyle and bearing down on Stan. "Can't your fuckin' girlfriend wait one afternoon, or do you have a fucking _schedule_ for getting _pussy-whipped?"_

"That's not it." Stan shook his head vigorously. "I just have someplace I gotta be after school today."

"Stan, _I don't think you understand._ It's a _raffle._ That means if _we_ all want free pizza, we need as many entries as we can get- if _one_ of us wins, we _all_ win, and our chances are best if we _work together."_

"I'm _busy-_ fuckin' ask Butters to help, he's usually up for this kind of thing."

"Doing _what?!_ What's _so_ important that you'd just _abandon_ your friends and damage our odds?"

 _Shove a bazooka up Hillary Clinton's asshole, I know where this bullshit is going._

Dee knew exactly where Stan was going to be- they _all did,_ minus Cartman. Stan was getting therapy through a church program- it was free and discreet, but participating required good attendance. If he missed his appointments without 24 hour notice, he'd owe a fee and be kicked from the program. Usually he went on _Wednesday_ afternoons, but with Thanksgiving his family had wanted him home on Wednesday night to help prep, forcing a shift this week to Friday. If Cartman _knew,_ they were all certain, he'd try to sabotage Stan or insist the program was brainwashing him... or some bullshit like that.

They'd all agreed that Eric couldn't fucking know about it, but if Stan didn't _tell_ him, the fat fucker was going to go into _sleuth mode_ and everything was going to get fucked.

Dee shoved herself in-between Stan and Cartman, glaring up at the kid who had a few inches and probably eighty pounds on her. Didn't matter- it was all _soft._ If Eric decided to make something of this, she was going to go straight for his nuts without hesitation.

 _Give me a fucking reason, asshat._

"Wha-" Cartman blinked, taken aback for a second. "The fuck do _you_ want, Douchebag? Are _you_ too _kewl_ for free pizza, too? I can't believe I hang out with you, you're all a bunch of pretentious _lame-wads."_

"No, he just wants you to leave Stan the hell alone, dude." Kyle interjected. "Back off already."

He didn't budge at first. He looked over her head to stare at Stan. Dee had no idea what kind of face Stan was making, instead focused on Eric and gritting her teeth together as tension knotted up in her shoulders, expanding on a plan of attack that started with a kick to the nards and expanded to yanking the bigger boy over and propelling him head-first into the sign for the stop. The sharp metal edges of the post would probably hurt like hell. _Perfect._

 _Don't forget about our deal, Cartman- if we butt heads, you leave our friends out of it. I'm telling you to fuck the fuck off;_ _ **your move, bitchtits.**_

They made eye-contact. As if having a sudden flashback, Cartman's eyes bugged out, and then his face settled into a truly _soured_ expression, sucking the metaphorical lemon. " _Fine, whateva,_ but you better get some extra people to help out in his place, Douchebag. Cool people- not lame-wads, I'm not sharing pizza with lame assholes like the goths or the retard kids."

The bus arrived soon after.

* * *

 _::T he Author's Corner::_

It took us three chapters, but we finally got to the goddamn plot!

Also, Butters has only _just_ joined the team, and he's already being helpful. Because having a builder/gadget guy is always a solid addition.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	4. Musical Chairs

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Musical Chairs::**

Dee had spent the bus ride doing research on this new pizzeria, flopping back in her seat just as she plugged in earbuds to watch a YouTube clip that had come up with a general google search. It appeared that, aside from featuring passable pizza, the chain known as _Sneaker's SnacShak_ was one of those joints that featured creepy animatronic mascots that were supposed to somehow be cute. The video was of four bulky, man-sized machines jerking in janky pantomime of playing a song on stage, each modeled after some kind of animal. Front in center in the 'leading man' role was the apparent mascot of the chain, _Sneaker,_ who was an excessively obvious Chuck-E-Cheese rip-off as a fluffy mouse that happened to be _white_ instead of gray, and dressed more like an _80's Greaser_ than a _90's Skater Boy,_ with a black leather jacket decorated in silver studs. The rest of the band followed the theme, though Dee didn't take the time to register what the rest of the mascots were or their names... in part because she'd gotten a text only seconds into the video, and the alert banner covered a third of her screen.

The message was from Kenny, in all caps.

[Received, 7:44] DONT HELP CARTMAN

She blinked. She hadn't exactly been _planning_ on assisting Eric any further than necessary to get him to lay the fuck off, if only because _refusal_ might force a confrontation. They did have a _deal,_ after all, and that meant if Cartman felt he had a beef with her, she'd be getting the full and direct brunt of it. Taking their friends off of the table was a victory against possible splash damage... but it didn't remove Cartman's teeth by any measure of imagination. She figured she'd actually be a proper troll about it and make a public Facebook post, which would no doubt incur so many entries into the raffle on Cartman's behalf, and constitute an implicit invite to every person that did so, that while he _would_ win the party he probably wouldn't actually be able to utilize any of the prizes.

Kenny texting her in caps, however, was something that was excessively rare. Usually reserved for crisis, and it sent an electric tickle of adrenaline down her spine.

[Sent, 7:45] Why not? I was gonna go the 'too much of a good thing' route and fuck 'em over.

She glanced out from her monopoly on the very last seat on the bus- a weird little half-seat next to the emergency exit that kept her out of Stan and Kyle sitting together on the last seat on the other side of the aisle, and left Kenny crammed in next to the window with Cartman dominating the outside of the seat so he could face outward in the seat just in front of them. Eric's bulk had shifted half-way into the aisle, excitedly telling Clyde about the new pizzeria and the raffle, and allowing her to catch sight of Kenny over the extended curve of the bigger boy's back. Kenny's lanky frame was half-curled, knees up on the back of the seat and his hood tightly drawn, face invisible and his phone appearing to be the sole focus of his attention as thumbs tapped a reply.

[Received, 7:45] Karens b-day is on sunday  
[Received, 7:46] shes never had a real party  
[Received, 7:46] if we make entries under her name and she wins she would be so excited  
[Received, 7:47] pls dude, it would make shit so special for her if she could have a real party with her friends  
[Received, 7:47] even if they suck

Attention drug back to her phone, Dee had to stare a second. _Karen's birthday._ No wonder Kenny was spun up; this was an opportunity that dropped out of the goddamn sky, and _just in time_ for something special to happen. It was almost like the stars aligning to make a little girl have a happy birthday.

She scoffed at that last comment, though.

[Sent, 7:48] Still haven't forgiven Dougie?

[Received, 7:48] fuckno i havnt forgiven the little fucker sack of shit turned my sis to the fucking dark side and put her in danger  
[Received, 7:48] hes lucky doc showed up or i woulda made his face into hamburger  
[Received, 7:49] little twat can suck my dick for the next ten years and imma still glare at him every time we cross paths  
[Received, 7:49] so he knows exactly what the fuck is up

[Sent, 7:50] Have you TALKED to Karen about that, yet?  
[Sent, 7:50] Like actually asked her what the hell went down, gotten her side of things?

There was a pause. Dee peered across the aisle again, but Eric had leaned back and blocked Kenny from view. In her attempt at peering at her boyfriend, she instead made brief eye contact the asshat she'd have to contend with if Karen had any hope of bagging a birthday party. The contact was accidental, awkward, and locked her into a stare-down she hadn't been prepared for when Eric didn't immediately make a derisive face at her. Instead he _smiled_ like they were legit buddies, and left her to contend with that as he returned to chatting up other kids on his plan to win the raffle.

She felt like she'd just thrown up in her mouth a bit, quickly turning her attention back to her phone.

[Received, 7:52] no  
[Received, 7:52] its not like its hard to figure out tho  
[Received, 7:53] he prolly roped her into it the same way cartman ropes us into his shit all the time  
[Received, 7:53] i dont blame her dude, dougies the shithead

Dee felt like bashing her forehead against the window, or lobbing her phone high in hopes of smacking Kenny in the head with it. He was usually the _smart one_ between them, but he'd gone off and _decided_ he knew what happened without actually _talking_ to Karen about it... and Kenny's protective behavior wasn't known to _wane._

No, no, _swooping in and saving the day_ was quite literally part of his MO for how he treated his sister. _Dee had been part of that bullshit, once,_ and smacked him right over the top of the head when it came out that the whole reason they had to rescue Karen from lame vampire kids was because _she had no other friends besides her big brother._

[Sent, 7:54] Please don't make this Casa Bonita all over again. Fucking talk to her. Please.  
[Sent, 7:55] You literally lose nothing but a few minutes of your time by asking for her side of the story.  
[Sent, 7:55] I swear on Hitler's inadequate penis that if this ends with me fighting another dead pop star I will personally stick an ax in your skull

[Received, 7:55] low blow dude not cool  
[Received, 7:56] its not like ive stopped her from telling me anything  
[Received, 7:56] if she wants to talk about it she hasnt fuckin said anything  
[Received, 7:56] she was sharing our movements to dougie so she obvs knows about the mysterion thing  
[Received, 7:57] idk maybe she just found out and needs time to process that shit  
[Received, 7:57] u gonna help with the raffle or wat?

 _Tantric titty twisters, that's some hardcore denial you're riding, boy._ It was a force of will not to roll her eyes back into her head so hard she damaged her optic nerves. She may not have been the brightest bulb in the box, but if there was one thing she recognized, it was _controlling behavior._ What Kenny was doing came from a good place, but it was going somewhere bad on a fast train.

The message _'You realize what you're doing counts as red flags for abusive behavior, right? Isolation tactics? Alienating her friends?'_ was typed on her phone, but she hesitated on sending it. Usually she never held back from going straight for the kill, but... _well,_ he was her boyfriend. Making him mad risked all the other things she _liked_ having through the school day, like sitting together at lunch and texting each other jokes between classes.

With a sigh, she pressed and held the backspace on her touch keyboard. She'd said her piece. Kenny was a thinker. She could hope that he'd think about what she'd already said, and he'd figure it out on his own without her bashing him over the head with it.

[Sent, 7:59] Yeah, yeah, I'll rally the troops to help with Karen's birthday.  
[Sent, 7:59] I just gotta make it look like Cartman's winning right up until he isn't, or he'll be up my ass.

[Received, 7:59] lol sure ur ass could take that? i mean its powerful but cartman is a pretty big load of shit

Kenny's muffled giggling could be heard over the general din of the bus. Dee rolled her eyes, but smirked.

 _Too fuckin' true._

* * *

The unit on health and human sexuality had started at the beginning of this week- a unit in science class that began with a rather unusual permission form going home that allowed students to _opt out_ if their parents didn't want them learning _factual sex ed_ at school that included discussions of anatomy and what the holy fuck consent was. Until this specific morning, Dee had been mostly _tuned out_ of the content of the class, being someone who _hadn't_ gotten her education on sex thus far exclusively from pornography, or _bible thumpers_ for that matter. While Ace fielded dumb questions from boys and girls about the locations, sizes, and variety of genital formations in the past couple of days, she'd silently filled in her anatomical worksheets and fiddled with her phone under the table as a way of _ignoring the hell_ out of Cartman.

Today, that became impossible.

The teacher, Ms. Eise-Herr [also known as _Ace],_ didn't have her customary exuberance going on this specific morning. In fact, she seemed downright _pensive,_ wringing her hands together after wheeling in a covered cart to the front of the room, a look of contrition on her face as the last bell rang and kids settled down at their two-person tables. Two-person tables that decided defacto lab and project partners, and left Dee as Cartman's safety net on every single damn assignment where copying down notes from the textbook was involved.

Another reason she was hesitant about the whole _telling the world she was actually a girl_ thing. Eric was going to throw a shit-fit when he realized he was stick with a girl as a lab partner for the rest of the year, and no doubt all of his ripping would take on a gendered bent.

 _I could always kill him. I know people who would help hide a body. It **is** an option. _

Such considerations were interrupted as Ace cleared her throat, putting on a smile that didn't want to exist on her face and greeting the class. "Good morning, everyone. Continuing in our health unit... we've reached a mandatory portion of the curriculum on _child care._ The state has decided that if kids are going to know how babies are made, we also need to prepare them for the possibility of parenthood as if it's a certainty, _despite the fact that not everyone wants to participate in that."_

Ace's tone was that of _verbal cringe._ She glanced at the large wheeled cart once more. Clearly, the teacher was not happy about this part of the curriculum, despite having trilled anatomical terms at the class for the past four days and _encouraged_ the giggles, informing the class that laughter is a way to get over discomfort with something... but she wasn't laughing at this.

"I'll be honest, kids." Ace confessed, ceasing to wring her fingers and putting her hands on her hips instead. "I personally think forcing kids your age to pantomime parenthood is dumb and _assumptive._ Some of you may not even engage in partnerships that end in procreation in the future, and we teach consent and contraception to try and help _prevent_ accidental pregnancies, but the curriculum still includes a _child-rearing_ unit, so we're going to get through it as quick as humanly possible by making it an over-the-weekend project."

A hand shot up near the front; Bebe, with her blonde curls and a bright red turtleneck that set off the strawberry tones in her hair.

"Yes, Bebe?" Ace nodded, encouraging questions.

"We already did a child-care thing back in fourth grade- with eggs!" She declared. "Is this gonna be anything like that?"

Dee blinked. She hadn't been here for that, but she was getting more intrigued all the time. What was in the cart Ace had brought in? … and what over-the-weekend project was she going to be stuck doing with Cartman that had to do with _child rearing?_

Something about that mixture of thoughts made her just a little sick. She glanced at the kid with a tight frown on her face, surprised to find _him_ looking at _her_ at the exact same moment. His expression as unresolved surprised. Eyebrows raised, jaw loose. Not angry, not disgusted, just _looking._

She jerked her gaze back to the front at Ace answered Bebe's question.

"It's going to be a little more _involved_ than _eggs,_ actually." Ace answered, pulling the cover off of the cart she'd wheeled in.

The cart had several shelves on it, and sitting on those shelves were... _baby dolls._ They landed right in the uncanny valley, with mostly realistic faces molded out of plastic and of the appropriate size for infants, each one dressed in some manner of pastel baby clothes.

"Each table of lab partners is going to be assigned one of these dolls, which I will activate at the end of class." Ace explained, picking up one of the dolls the way one might pick up a severed head- gingerly; out of disgust, not care. "These things are made to _simulate_ what it's like to care for an actual child; they have speakers with which to _cry_ at random times, and sensors to detect whether or not they're being given appropriate care. They will know if they are shaken, if they are dropped, if they've been _wiped_ the wrong way, whether or not they've been kept warm enough, or left in a hot car- so on and so forth. Each one of these has a small army of sensors, and when you and your lab partner come back on Monday morning you will get a grade on this project based on what those sensors have to say about your quality of care."

Ace cleared her throat, muttering something that Dee didn't quite catch, but sounded a lot like _not that the grade will amount to much._

"W-wait- so- _MISS TEACHER!"_

"Eric, please raise your hand." Ace tucked the doll she was holding beneath her arm like a football.

Cartman didn't bother, continuing on as if he'd been acknowledged the same way Bebe had. "Dee's a _dude,_ we can't raise a baby together! Someone will try to assassinate it!"

Of the ridiculous things Eric might have claimed, that got Dee to jerk her head over and stare at the guy. _Assassinate a baby doll? For having male 'parents' in a simulation? Who the fucking hell-_ _ **oh right. Garrison. That's who.**_ _Sometimes it feels like you guys have_ _ **decades-worth**_ _of stories about that asshat... then again, I was only in his class for a couple months before he went off to become_ _ **Mr. President,**_ _and that certainly felt like at least five goddamn years..._

"I'm assigning these dolls regardless of the gender of lab partners, Eric." Ace sighed, too _done_ with all of this to enforce classroom rules. "And if _anyone_ wants to start a fight about same-sex parents, they can talk to the PC Super, and then probably say hello to the ISS office and community service for the rest of the week."

"No, _you don't understand-_ I _can't_ get partnered with this kid!" Cartman whipped out a chubby finger, stabbing it quite nearly into Dee's face. "He's got communication issues! He never talks! I can't raise a kid with someone who won't meet me half-way!"

 _You mean someone you can't manipulate into doing the whole thing for you._ Dee almost scoffed aloud, not emoting in her face at all but to face forward again. If Cartman's finger had jabbed any closer, he would have gotten one of her eyes. _If you think I'm taking that fucking **screaming simulation** for the whole weekend, you've got another thing coming, and it's my boot up your **grande ass.**_

Ace stared on for a moment, as if calculating how much effort she'd have to expend to force Cartman do _deal with his assigned partner_ verses _how much she really wanted to get started with this lesson so it could be over with._

She finished said calculation with dull eyes and a sigh.

"Alright. Dee, Heidi, swap."

" _WHAT?!"_

That wasn't Cartman. That was a voice from the back of the class; the last table in the middle column, which was occupied by Heidi and Butters. Heidi was the one who had cried out, and she sounded... _less than pleased._

"Ms. Eise-Herr, that's _not fair!"_ Heidi shouted from the rear of the classroom, standing up out of her chair and putting her hands down on the tabletop; a dramatic posturing that caused the rest of the class to crane their necks and watch the exchange with wide eyes. The girl was as she usually was; light brown hair evenly parted in the middle to frame her face, which was currently contorted for her hazel eyes to bug out wide while her jaw remained open from her cry of 'unfair.' Unlike most girls in the grade, she'd not bothered with any kind of make-up, not even lip-gloss, and the most feminine thing about her was the pink flower the chest of her green shirt. She perpetually wore gym shorts; the long variety usually sold in the boys section that came down to the knees and hung loose for maximum comfort, with a set of leggings underneath and sneakers that had been white when new, but were now a mottled mix of gray, brown, and green from how much time she spent running on turf with them. She was also _oddly tall_ in the grade, having hit an early growth spurt by anyone's standards, which only helped her times in the school's track team as their new favorite sprinter.

"We don't have enough of these things for kids to opt into doing it alone, Ms. Turner- they cost the school six-hundred dollars a pop." Ace returned cooly. "And I know that Dee and Butters can at least _get along._ Swap."

Heidi's mouth was open for a moment, as if she were going to complain and argue further, but instead her jaw snapped shut. Dee recognized the tension in the girl's face; the grinding of teeth that turned angry words into a fine metaphorical powder. The girl swallowed, stood up from the table she shared with Butters, and picked up her things. "Yes, ma'am."

Whispers spun about the room; girls leaning over to other girls and murmuring as Heidi took a walk of shame. Dee had gathered up her own things, relief vying with _guilt-_ she wouldn't with Cartman on _anyone,_ but Heidi? Knowing their _history?_

She felt somewhat sick stepping way from her chair to let Heidi take it. She made brief contact with her, and she gave the taller girl a regretful wince. Dee didn't talk to _the girls,_ such as they were, but Heidi had been distant from that group for the past couple years. Still connected, but more _in their orbit_ than part of their world. As such, she and Dee had crossed paths once or twice, but never really _talked_ or _interacted_ beyond town and school shenanigans.

All that said, Heidi seemed grateful for the sympathy, and put on a bitter smirk and a shrug. It was a nonverbal statement Dee understood easily.

 _'Don't worry, I can handle this. It'll suck, but I can handle it.'_

"Yes, Clyde?"

Apparently Ace was still taking questions as seats were being shuffled. Dee left her seat next to Cartman to Heidi, and trekked to the back of the room to join Butters at his table. Kid looked worried- had he and Heidi become friends? Or maybe he just like having her as a lab partner.

"Kevin's parents opted him out of this unit; I don't have a lab partner." Clyde pointed out as Dee took her seat, peering to the front. It was true; Clyde currently had his table to himself, as he had all week. Kevin had been shifted to a study hall instead.

" _Ah,_ right. Pick a group to join with; there's nothing wrong with simulating a polyamorousgroupraising a child." Ace nodded along with herself.

" _Polly-anus?"_ Cartman's grating voice questioned loudly, getting scattered titters from some boys in the class. "Miss teacher, I wasn't aware we'd be bringing _parrot butt_ into this class."

" _Polyamorous."_ Ace corrected, lacking patience for Eric's usual crap. " _Poly_ can be a term for people who find romantic satisfaction with more than one partner, sometimes forming a polyamorous group that shares everything we think of when it comes to romantic couples."

"More than one partner?" Red spoke up somewhat rudely. "Isn't that just called _being greedy_ or _cheating?"_

Ace sighed, putting her hand to her brow. At the same time, Clyde had gathered his things and stood up from his usual table, peering over the possible groups for him to choose from. Dee figured he'd go pick one of the girls to join up with, like Red or Bebe, or maybe hop in with Craig and Tweek since they were all in the same regular group. Instead, she found herself surprised as he made his way to the _back_ of the class... to approach her and Butters' table.

"Is it cool if I join your guys's group?" He asked quietly as Ace launched into a full explanation of different romantic arrangements people engaged in- it seemed the woman was willing to take it as a delay of the inevitable handing out and activation of the creepy baby dolls.

"Why sure!" Butters responded with his usual friendly tenor, if a touch _loudly._ "We don't mind ya joining up with us, right?" Butters glanced back to Dee for approval.

She couldn't help quirking a brow at Clyde. _Why aren't you... womanizing or something? This isn't your usual MO. Butters is considered off-brand lame at best, and I don't even know what fucking category I fall in besides 'associated with Cartman.'_

"Butters always gets projects done on time with perfect scores." Clyde answered her questioning look with a shrug. "And you think I wanna get in the middle of the _power couple?_ No thanks."

She supposed _that_ was true. Craig and Tweek didn't get intense often, but when they did, it tended to be _explosive._ Something like this was prime for drama. With a shrug, she nodded. _Sure, why the hell not?_

She'd just have to hope Clyde didn't try to dump his portion on them like an asshole.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

So full disclosure here, this specific subplot was suggested by a person on the Tumblr, and I decided to run with it. I remember my middle school sex ed class had ONE of those dolls, which we all had to practice changing a diaper on, and I found the little fucking thing creepy as hell... so we're rolling with that.

I'm also rolling with a few other things, hopefully it comes together into a fun ride.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	5. Falling Into The Same Old Shit

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Falling into the Same Old Shit::**

"So... uh... _Heidi..."_

A large portion of science class had been devoted to the operation and care of the dolls, each one getting signed out to the teams of students that would be caring for them. Ace had led the class in the various pieces that came with the little robotic infants, and how to care for the simulated child's needs- changing, feeding, burping, attention, and what _not_ to do unless one wanted to fail this little project instantly, such as _shaking_ or _dropping_ the thing; behaviors that would kill an actual child at this stage in development.

Heidi had been laser-focused on that instruction, hoping it would take the whole hour. She wouldn't even _look_ at Eric, instead staring up at the whiteboard and Ace as if she were presenting the very word of God. When it was over with, however, and the teacher began to go around the room to activate everyone's faux spawn, it was somewhat inevitable that they'd have to talk to one another... if only to figure out the custody plan for the weekend.

"I'll do all of it." Heidi responded flatly, taking possession of the doll and its pieces with a sweep of her arm over the surface of the shared table. She didn't even glance his way.

 _I won't give him the satisfaction. I'm in control as long as I don't engage with him._

"Heidi, it's a _partners_ project, you gotta let me help."

The sigh that came out of her felt like her soul was trying to escape via her mouth. It failed, and the despair of being stuck fell heavily into her stomach. She screwed her eyes shut, reminded that her jaw ached from how much she'd been gritting her teeth since she sat down. "Eric, you and I _both know_ that if I were _anyone else,_ you'd be trying to get out of doing any of the work _at all._ Don't pretend you care, _I'm not that stupid._ I'll do everything, you'll have a freebie weekend, and we can go back to the way things were: where _I don't talk to you_ and _you leave me the hell alone."_

" _Heidi..."_

 _Fuck. I engaged._

She knew she'd fucked up the moment she heard that _hurt_ tone in his voice, the little warble that he might be about to _cry_ in the middle of a classroom of their peers. _Fucking Christ,_ was _nothing_ below this kid? _Here we go,_ she thought to herself. _How are you the victim_ _ **this time?**_

"It's Friday, don't you have track practice after _skewl?_ I'm pretty sure you can't wear a baby harness while doing sprints- lemme take it home, and you can come get it on Saturday morning."

 _Surprise_ was a small shock up the spine, making her eyes pop open and her head shake mildly from side to side, like a dog trying to shake water droplets out of its ears.

 _Finally,_ she looked at him.

It always disturbed her how _pretty_ Eric's eyes were. Kids could say all they wanted about his size, his eating habits, the fact that he was beginning to show the early signs of a kid who was going to have a _lot_ of issues with acne when puberty hit full force with the occasional pimple; it didn't change the fact that he had powder blue eyes that were intensely expressive. At the moment, raised brows and widened lids exposed her to the unadulterated might of those baby-blues, staring at her with unswerving sincerity.

She remembered loving those eyes a couple years ago.

She remembered hurting every time they cried.

Her stomach twisted.

"You, uh... know when track practice is?" A halting question that fumbled its way out of her mouth. "That's kinda irrelevant to you, isn't it?"

There was a temptation to make a dig on him for all the sports teams he'd been part of back in elementary school just for free food after games and practices- one she decided against. It would be an opportunity for him to exploit, no matter how well-worded her take-down was.

"I notice when you're not on the bus." He shrugged, looking away, a frown cutting into his soft face. There were still leftovers on his face from some kind of shit that had happened a couple weeks ago; the healing red lines of scratch marks from a thousand cats. Heidi had gotten the cliff notes of what the heck happened from Butters, but it sounded more than a little unbelievable. Curiosity was there, but stamped out.

 _What happens to him isn't my problem. I look after me. I **win** by holding myself accountable and never becoming the victim again. _

"I know you don't trust me Heidi. It's okay. You probably shouldn't. I know I screwed you over before- I just wanted to help out. Do my part, but I guess I can't even be trusted with _that,_ huh?"

She winced. It was _him_ who wasn't looking at _her_ now, and there was some reflexive part of her that wanted to rush to saying _sorry._ To reassure him that it wasn't all him; that she screwed him, too- but the moment the words formed it her head it was as if a fire alarm had been flipped. Sirens blared in her head, and her jaw clenched tight again.

"No." She agreed with him. "You can't. I'm going to do this, and if you come _anywhere near my house_ this weekend, I will _break your legs."_

She saw the transformation, a proverbial morphing between _Dr. Jekyll_ and _Mr. Hyde,_ as the open and pitiable expression he'd been wearing closed down with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes that turned upon her in an indignant flash of rage. There was a sense of _satisfaction_ in her to see it, reassured that she was not dealing with someone who actually wanted to make nice with her and move on. No, this was the same old Eric, working the same old strings, trying to get her to drop her defenses and let him work her again.

 _It's not happening, asshole._

Before he could spit anything vile at her, the teacher arrived at the table.

"Okay, Eric and Heidi..." Ace muttered faintly, making note of them on a clip board she was carrying. "Heidi, can I see the foot of your baby? They're all marked with a number, I need to verify it on the sign-out sheet." She asked, unaware of what she'd just interrupted.

"Oh, sure." Heidi took any excuse in a storm to look away, unbuttoning the one piece the doll was wearing and tugging it out of the way until a foot was exposed, showing _A12_ written in black sharpie.

"Miss Teacher, how would you suggest we split up the work for this project?" Eric asked from over her shoulder, taking on the plaintive tone he always got when he _wanted_ something. It was somewhere between a whine and a mewl, and maybe just the moth pathetic noise on earth.

"However you want, Eric- each group can choose to trade off as needed for activities, have one person focus on care in return for the other helping with schoolwork, switch off days- whatever works for you and your partner." Ace responded, shrugging slightly. "There are thousands of different parenting styles the world over; the real point of this project is to show that caring for a baby is _hard-_ honestly, I'm pretty sure they're part of the old _abstinence only scare tactics_ to try and frighten kids out of trying sex when they're teens... which only makes them _more_ disgusting and creepy, in my opinion."

"And what if one person does _all_ the -"

Heidi knew where he was going. He was trying to _corner_ her into doing things his way by getting the teacher involved.

"Why's that?" Heidi asked, cocking her head at Ace. "Aren't you abstinent? Shouldn't you be happy the school is encouraging kids towards _your_ lifestyle?"

She heard Eric choke behind her as Ace blinked, her usually bright smile tightening into a puckered frown.

"Heidi, that is _reductive_ and _assumptive._ Just because I'm asexual doesn't mean I'm abstinent. I choose to be sexually active with my partner because they enjoy it and I like doing things that they enjoy- but the point is it was a _choice._ Mine. Some people choose to be abstinent, for a _lot_ of reasons, but trying to _force_ kids to be abstinent through fear tactics is _disgusting_ and leaves them unprepared to deal with their own feelings about sex and sexuality as they grow up. The fact that we still have _holdovers_ from the old curriculum like these _dolls_ is why I'm unhappy... but I'll still teach it, because the school requires me to."

" _Oh."_ Heidi said, as if she hadn't understood that before. "I see."

"Good." Ace nodded, signing off on her clipboard before setting it down to pick the doll up off the table.

"But Miss Teacher-" Eric tried to get back in, "What about-"

"I'll be doing a whole section on sex and sexuality next week, Eric." Ace dismissed, setting the doll back down gently. "You can ask questions then. Right now, I need to active the rest of the class's simulations before the hour is over."

" _But-!"_

"Thank you, Ms. Ace." Heidi put on a cheerful smile, cutting off her table partner yet again, and setting herself to carefully re-dressing the activated doll. As the teacher left, she glanced back to Eric, who was actively pouting so hard it was a surprise his face didn't stick that way.

 _Eat your heart out, Eric. You're the one who taught me that trick._

* * *

"It's _not fair!"_

For once, Cartman was only generating the _second-most_ obnoxious noise in the lunchroom, because half of their grade level had been through science class by this time of day and had received their creepy baby dolls... which, once activated, didn't just _cry_ like a store bought cabbage patch kid. No, no, those things _shrieked,_ the kind of sound that seized one's spine and forced instinctual capitulation to its needs if only to _make it stop._ It was one thing when it happened in a classroom; by second hour only a smattering of kids had theirs, and they were hastily excused to the bathrooms to take care of what they needed to do in order to limit the disruption. Kids were even given a pass on the Friday run during gym class if they were looking after their molded plastic infant, which Dee and Clyde happily passed off to Butters so they could get into their weekly competition of _who could stay at the head of the pack._

It was a competition that they sometimes shared with Heidi, when their grade's track star saw fit to remind them who was really the best sprinter in the class... but she had been on the sidelines today, changing a doll's diaper, while Cartman was with the walkers that she and Clyde regularly _lapped_ during that specific gym activity.

"What the hell is your problem, Cartman? You don't have to do _any work,_ and Heidi is probably going to get a great score on the project for you. This sounds like your perfect scinaro; she does all the work, you get all the credit." Kyle sighed, shaking his head. "Me and Lana at least worked out a _deal;_ she looks after the baby today at school, and I take him over the weekend in return for her doing the work on that essay we got assigned in English class."

"You're gonna do the _mister mom_ thing all weekend?" Clyde quested; a surprise addition to their table this Friday, and the one currently in possession of their baby doll. "We're gonna switch off; I've got her tonight, Butters' is taking her tomorrow, and Dee's doing Sunday because he doesn't go to church."

 _Don't call it 'her'- just because they molded a vulva for it and dressed it in pastel pink doesn't make it any less of a **thing** made to torment kids. _Dee huffed slightly, but nodded along all the same. It meant she was going to have the thing on Karen's birthday, but regardless of whether luck worked out she was going to be spending that day with Kenny and the birthday girl, so it wouldn't be _all bad._

"Well that's great for the _threesome_ you perverts got going on, but Heidi isn't letting me do _anything!"_ Cartman whined. "That _bitch_ won't even let me _hold_ our baby- like she thinks she can just _take_ it because _she's the woman_ and _that's her right._ What about single fathers? What about loving dads who get screwed out of their rights just because they're men? It's so _sexist_ it makes me _sick!"_

"Heidi isn't all bad, Eric." Butters chimed in; the other part of the trio Dee was currently embedded in, which had prevented her from sitting next to Kenny as she usually did. He was instead across from her, lacking both a doll and a partner. He didn't have science until after lunch; lucky bastard. Stan was in the same boat, and slotted himself next to Kyle, whose partner had decided to sit with her usual table of girlfriends rather than eat lunch with her 'baby daddy' as some other kids had decided to do. "I know she's still sore at you about... well, what happened back in fourth grade."

Eric was also across the table from Dee and her partners, sat on the end next to Kenny, and making his side the _classic group,_ such as it was before she moved into town. Butters' assertion seemed to shock him, to the point that he nearly dropped his cheap hamburger into his equally cheap fries and token salad. "Oh, _oh,_ and she just tells _you_ everything, eh Butters?! It's bad enough you gotta be a fuckin' _gay wad_ with Douchebag, you gotta fuckin _steal my ex-girlfriend, too?!_ Polly-anus people really _are greedy sons of bitches!_ When are you gonna stop, when you've fucked your way across the whole _fuckin' grade- OW! KENNY! THAT HURT!"_

A smart smack against the back of Eric's skull interrupted his tirade, Kenny's eyes narrowed as he _glared_ at the boy next to him. _"Fuckin' lay off, dude."_ He intoned through his muffler, having already inhaled his lunch at light speed and wrapped back up with his customary scarf. _"You and Heidi were bad for each other. Deal with it."_

"Bad for _each other?_ Try _the whole school."_ Kyle scoffed. " _Everyone_ got sucked into that nightmare."

"You're just butt-hurt because you wanted to date her." Stan observed dryly, having not looked up from his lunch, his tone intensely sour. "Can we all just agree that Heidi was _bad news_ and move on?"

"Wa- _Stan?"_ Kyle blinked, blindsided and jerking his head to stare at his best friend... who didn't react.

 _Son a bitch, what's up Stan's ass now?_

" _SEE?"_ Eric insisted, latching on to any modicum of agreement. "That chick is _poison!_ And she's infringing on my rights as a male parent! I'm gonna take that bitch to the _Principal_ and see how she likes _justice_ in her face."

"Oh, so you're going to force her to deal with you, and punish her for trying to stay away?"

More eyes shifted to Stan. He spoke in a manner that could only be described as _emotionally dead,_ nothing but a sharp edge that was certain of nothing good in the world having ever been or ever coming again.

"W-What the- but Stan, you just... you just agreed with me?" Cartman blinked, confused.

"I agree Heidi was bad news." Stan answered, not looking up. "But you shouldn't punish her for trying to stay away. She's making the best of a bad situation. _Maybe you should show a little maturity and do the same."_

 _What in the tit-fucking hell is going on with him?_ Dee couldn't help _staring on_ with a fault line forming in the middle of her forehead for how intensely furrowed her brow was over wide eyes. Sure, this morning had sucked, and Eric had nearly cornered him about therapy, but they'd gotten past that. She'd headed Cartman off, and with any luck this whole _Heidi thing_ would distract him all weekend, diminishing the likelihood that the fat fuck would pursue the issue further.

There was a long pause, before Kyle seemed to realize it. "Wendy's in a different science hour than you- you guys can't be partners on this- _awe, man, don't make this the eggs all over again."_

"I was a shitty dad, Kyle!" Stan barked, slamming a hand on the table. "And Annie is my lab partner- if I screw up, Wendy is gonna hear about it, and _I'm gonna lose her again-"_

"Whoa, whoa, _dude-_ remember, _just cause something feels true, that doesn't make it true._ Take a second and _breathe-"_

"I know, _I know-"_ Stan nodded along before Kyle could go through the entire CBT checklist. "I just- I'm done. I'm gonna go walk around until the bell rings."

Dee stared on as Stan disengaged, leaving Kyle staring after him and looking utterly unsure of what to do.

"Whoa, Stan's _wrecked..._ is being a good daddy such a big deal to girls?" Butters muttered in awe.

"We better take this seriously." Clyde added in a similar tone. "This project might really mess with our dating chances if we screw it up."

"Who the fuck cares? Girls are poison, anyway." Cartman spat, digging back into his lunch spitefully. "Stupid... _cootie ridden... good for nothing..."_ He grumbled between bites.

 _Wow, just a bit of **hostility** up in this bitch. Kenny, please tell me you're not on board with these idiots... _Dee's gaze wandered to the boy in his scarf... who was difficult to read when half his face was covered. He was staring after Stan, concerned, not appearing to be engaged in the table's conversation anymore. She supposed that was better than him agreeing that girls had a horrifying fixation on babies and the care there of.

She occupied herself with what she'd been doing throughout the day; sneakily texting everyone in her address book about the raffle and Karen's birthday.

 _God I hope he doesn't think I'm that stupid._

Next to her, the robotic baby started screaming in Clyde's arms, making the boy damn near jump out of his skin in his haste to take care of it.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

It is not an understatement to say I've been excited to dig into Heidi since I started writing this series. At first I knew only mildly of what had gone down in the show with their relationship, but once I was caught up and seen it... well, I've been through an abusive relationship with a manipulative asshat before, and Heidi contains a _lot_ of feels for me. Digging into her, how she's changed, how she's coped, is something that's very exciting for me as a writer :D

As always, of course, that'll just be my interpretation of the character, so I ask ahead of time that y'all don't take it personally if my take is different than yours. We's here to have fun, after all.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	6. Double Crosses on Hot Standby

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Double-Crosses on Hot Standby::**

By the end of the day, more than three dozen kids had gathered to help out with the raffle. Kenny didn't even _know_ all of them, some of them being from different grade levels, but that didn't matter. What mattered is they were all in on the scheme; a scheme that involved _saying_ they were all here to put Eric Cartman's name on multiple entries, but when it came down to the _doing_ it would be little miss Karen McCormick who ended up with all those extra slips in the proverbial hat. The sight of the crowd following after Dee _,_ or, as Kenny tended to think of her using her actual name, _Alyssa_ , was something that gave him a thrill of excitement- a hope that _maybe_ luck would come down on his side this time.

At the same time, he tried not to get his hopes up. Particularly not in front of Cartman.

Speaking of... Eric seemed _lacking_ in enthusiasm as Alyssa presented her gathering of kids to the supposed ringleader of this operation. The guy hadn't even managed a smile in the locker bays as everyone packed out their shit before heading to the buses. No, he wore a pensive frown that had no interest in engaging in the world around him; a sort of dead-eyed thousand yard stare that only seemed to mildly recognize that Dee had co-operated with him for the first time since the new school year had started... if, in a subversive manner. Not that he knew that. Yet.

All the while, Kenny found himself the subject of the occasional _jealous_ glance from Cartman.

Kenny, like all the other kids in their grade, had been assigned one of the mechanical nightmares when he'd gotten to his science hour for the day. His lab partner was a girl named Samantha, _Sammy_ for short, who offered to take care of the thing over the weekend if he'd handle it today and on Monday. With the specter of Karen's birthday hanging over his head, he didn't even haggle to try and get possible homework duties on the table; he just agreed to her first offer and traded Facebook Messenger information so they'd be able to set up a place to trade off the little 'bundle of joy' tomorrow morning.

The thing had cried while they were on the bus, riding it to the stop that dropped nearest to the South Park mall so their small mob of kids could get this done as expediently as possible. He was in his usual seat; wedged in next to Cartman, who had stared incredulously as he went through the entire process of figuring out what kind of care the doll currently needed while stuck against the window with minimal space to maneuver. Once he realized what he needed to do, he couldn't help a bit of grumbled cursing; preforming a _diaper change_ on a doll had felt stupid enough during class. Doing so in the middle of a crowded bus added a layer of frustration on top that took all the _silly_ out and just made the experience embarrassing. He wished he had some kind of _predictor_ so he could plan ahead, and not end up gripping a tiny facsimile of an infant between his legs while trying to _wipe_ it the right way to get it to stop crying.

During the struggle, Eric had leaned over and lent a hand. He held the doll steady so Kenny didn't have to worry about it flying off his lap if the bus went over a particularly hard bump.

The helping hand had not been expected. Seeing one of Cartman's yellow gloves come in had nearly made Kenny swat the guy away on pure reflex, suspecting sabotage. However, once the doll was secured and the job was done, the two boys shared a glance, and Eric audibly sighed over the noisy din.

"I don't get you, Kenny- we've been friends for a long time, right?"

 _Oh boy. Where are you going this time, dude?_

Despite the thought, Kenny shrugged faintly while re-dressing his doll. The baby was coded male by its tiny plastic penis and pastel blue onesie. Some additional outwear had been provided in class, so the doll had blue winter pants and a green jacket, as well as a set of white shoes to put back on. Thankfully, Kenny had a bit of practice dressing dolls; _thank you Karen. "Yeah, pretty much forever. Why?"_

"You've had a bunch of girlfriends all over the place- long distance, in town, casual, crazy; how do you... how come it seems no one's ever hurt you? You've never told me about _break-ups_ or _backstabbing bullshit-_ do you just... love 'em and leave 'em, or is there a trick I'm not getting? Heidi got under my skin, and now I don't know how to get her _out- what the fuck is wrong with me?"_

 _Dude, the list of what **isn't** wrong with you would be shorter. _Kenny almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. For Eric to actively and out-loud question if something was seriously messed up _inside_ himself was something of a revelation... now if only it wasn't wrapped up in seven layers of self pity and manipulation tactics to force a friend into giving advice whether they had something good to say or not. There wasn't enough time on this bus-ride for Kenny to even _try_ to explain to Eric how different their situations were; from the fact that Kenny mostly ended up dating girls who were also in the _lowest_ income bracket and took their thrills and spills as they came, to the very specific quirk of most of his relationships ending because he'd _died_ in some manner and left the girlfriend he'd had at the time thinking he had _ditched_ them.

 _Huh. Minus Lyssie; she's middle class and has hung on through the immortality-amnesia-bullshit... sure, we've been through hell and back together, but why **is** she with me?_

Internal thoughts aside, Eric was still staring at him, waiting for some kind of answer, looking the very picture of genuine desire to know how the hell to move on from his current mess... and as much as Kenny doubted that, it was really hard to say _fuck off_ when Eric had the _plaintive kitten eyes_ turned up to maximum.

" _Shit happens, dude- every bitch I've dated, she's her own person, and I'm my own person. Shit doesn't sync up all the time, and when it **hurts** you **let it go.** You don't keep your hand on a hot burner, you yank it away because that shit **fucking hurts."**_

It wasn't what he wanted to hear. Big eyes remained, but Eric's brow was coming down, his mouth forming into a crinkled frown like a year-old candy wrapper found forgotten in a pocket. "But it wasn't bad _all the time!_ She's acting like being with me _nearly killed her-"_

" _Didn't being with her feel like it nearly killed you? You threatened to kill yourself every time you guys broke up, and then when she finally left you... the whole town was there, dude. We all saw what happened. It was a_ _ **fucking mess.**_ _She doesn't wanna go back to that. Do you?"_

"I'm not trying to go out with her again, I just want her to _TALK TO ME!"_

Eric's volume spiked, and it was as if sliding his own voice up to eleven turned everyone else on the bus down to a one; kids in the nearby radius went quiet as Cartman shouted, and heads all the way at the front of the bus twisted around to see what the heck was going on. The tension seemed to grip Eric for a second as he half-way stood up from his seat to shout at prying eyes, but then he appeared to think better of it and settled his butt back down with a faint redness to his cheeks.

When he spoke next, it was a murmur.

"... she won't even let me see the baby, Kenny. She said if I went to her house, she'd break my legs. She means it- after everything, Heidi only says what she means. I..."

Kenny blinked. Was Eric _crying?_

 _Holy shit he's actually got the waterworks going._

"I don't even know if _it's a boy or a girl,_ or what Heidi _named_ it- it's _our baby_ and I don't even know it's _name. How unfair is that?"_

 _Dude, you are way too attached to a plastic doll with sensors and the ability to cry._

"She didn't even _ask me,_ y'know? She just _decided,_ and nothing I said made a difference... there was no _reasoning_ with her! I know... I know _motherhood_ is special, and it makes girls _irrational and protective,_ that's the _mommy instinct_ kicking in, but.. but... she didn't have to be so _cruuu-u-u-le!"_

Crying had become more pathetic, Eric all but wailing that last word as he wiped his eyes and hastily sniffed. Worse, for some reason what he was saying made a really strange kind of sense. Even if the dolls were _fake,_ they were assigned to groups who were equally responsible for the care. It was like watching the fallout of an unexpected baby from a couple that parted on bad terms before they realized they were pregnant... and that _was_ something that resonated with Kenny. In the shitty part of town he lived in, it was one of the most common reason people got _married-_ not 'cause they liked each other all that much, but because their was an _oops kid_ to think about. Young couples would get together, go wild sexually, and then fall apart emotionally, and then end up hitched anyway because of a positive pregnancy test. _Shot-gun weddings_ all around.

 _And then beat the shit out of each other in front of their kids for the foreseeable future._

… _Shit, what if Lyssie thinks I'm gonna grow up to be like **them?** If Stan's right and all the girls are paying attention to this project, and I fuck it up, I am **so screwed.** We're not even **fucking** yet- I have **literally nothing else to offer** besides existential dread about the nature of mortality. Who the fuck wants to stick with **that?!**_

Insecurity hit him all at once. What had been a crack in the dam in the form of mild concern became an all-consuming flood of worry. He _needed_ to check in with Alyssa later, and find out what she _actually_ thought about all this shit. If he didn't, he was going to tie himself into knots like Eric, and _being like Eric was never a good thing._

For now, he needed to placate Cartman. If the kid didn't get _something_ by being pathetic, he was going to escalate, and _nothing_ was going to ruin this weekend if Kenny could at all help it.

" _Dude, calm down. I'll see if Heidi will talk to me, okay?"_

 _Or someone I know. Probably Butters. They seem to be friends._

Eric sniffed hard, wiping his face with his forearm. "R- _really?_ You mean it? You can't be too obvious! She'll get mad; she's _scary_ when she's mad..."

 _God you could not be playing the victim any harder here, could you?_

" _Don't worry about it, Eric. I've got your back; I'm not a miracle worker though. I'm not promising anything."_ Best to temper expectations _now,_ though he doubted that would _help_ all that much. Terrible as the thought was, he needed to start calculating a plan B that involved a scapegoat. If he couldn't delay Eric going into full rage mode beyond Sunday, he'd need to _re-direct the kid_ away from himself and his sister.

"No, no, I know, I know-" Another snotty sniff, and Cartman managed a smile beneath tearful eyes. "It... it means a _lot_ that you'll try, Kenny. You're my best friend. I mean that- you're the best."

 _The disturbing part is I think you really believe that._

* * *

" _Hey, Dee, dude? Can I … talk to you for a second?"_

Clyde had been firmly attached to Butters and Dee since the assignment of the project this morning, flanking the short red-head wherever possible while taking his turn with the baby. With Dee's _lack of enthusiasm_ for speech, it had been up to himself and Butters to name the bundle of joy, and the pair of them had decided that _Izzie_ was a good and simple pick for the course of the project for the little faux girl... based in part by the number on her foot being _I22._

Maybe not the most creative, but it wasn't like the name was part of their grade; it just made her easier to refer to.

Either way, this attachment had extended after school, when Dee had texted him about the raffle Sneaker's SnacShak was holding for their grand opening. Clyde had been thinking about entering for himself, but hearing about the plight of Karen, and the fact that this would in some way _fuck over Cartman,_ he'd agreed with it as readily as all the other kids who had joined the group. Every kid deserved at least one solid birthday party, in his opinion; maybe this good deed would come back and reward him later in some way. _Karma_ and all that stuff. Then again, if he believed in Karma he had to assume he had a lot of _bad_ Karma built up from lying about his age on naughty websites, so maybe this was less about _rewards_ and more about _offsetting incoming bad ju-ju._

Whatever. It gave him an excuse to stick close to Dee without raising any eyebrows for existing outside his usual gang of dudes. He had his own reasons for joining up with his group, besides Butters' solid track record when it came to projects... but it would appear Kenny was slipping in to _borrow_ Dee just as their mob of middle-schoolers entered into the main atrium of the mall.

"Somethin' wrong?" Butters questioned, eyebrows raising as Dee easily slipped from between them, shrugging his willingness to step away as the gaggle of adolescents began to crowd up in front of the Christmas Tree the mall had set up now that Thanksgiving was over with. There were signs all over the place, advertising photos with Santa and the like, and Cartman was taking the lead of the group to direct everyone to where the raffle sign-ups were in the mall. Apparently the rep from the new pizzeria had set up in the food court.

" _Nah, just weekend stuff."_ Kenny assured, both arms occupied with holding his baby the way the teacher had shown them; ensuring support of the head. _"Just, real quick, over here?"_ He asked, motioning with a nod away from the crowd.

"They seem... _really_ close." Clyde observed as Dee and Kenny veered sharply off course to leave the horde, escaping the crush of kids as they began to move.

"Yeah, they're good buddies." Butters agreed warmly. "Do you want me to hold Izzy? You've had 'er all day."

"Nah, I'm good." Clyde smiled, double-checking his grasp. There were a number of girls from their grade in this group; he had a vested interest in them seeing him doing a good job. "But really, they seem... _really_ close. Like _gay_ close."

All at once, Butters tensed. "W-Well, just because they're _close_ don't make 'em _like that._ Stan and Kyle go off disappearing all the time together, an' no one thinks _they're_ like that."

"Some of the girls do." Clyde noted with a shrug. "The girls have a lot of theories on who might be gay or bi- they've even got organized wagers with odds based on their lists."

" _Whoa,_ really? Wait, _how do you know?"_ Butters quested, eyes going a little wide, the mob passing by shops with lights and signs and all else advertising Christmas sales to the point that an epileptic might be able to sue. "The girls keep all those lists and stuff a _secret."_

Clyde took a pensive moment, looking back and forth to ensure they weren't being listening to by anyone near-by in the mob. Then he motioned Butters to get a little closer. The blond boy obliged with an equally pensive glance back and forth, although he had no idea what they were looking out for. Conspiratorially leaned together, Clyde spoke lowly to avoid eavesdroppers.

"The girls have a betting pool on who is gonna come out as _what_ and _when._ Dee's got the longest odds because _no one knows anything about him._ I've got someone who's willing to share the winnings with me if I can find out the _what_ and the _when_ for them, and because of the odds the payout is gonna be _huge._ Like... every girl's allowance for the last three months, huge."

" _Whoa..."_ Butters murmured, his eyes going wide, no doubt imagining how much someone might get if they won the whole pot. "Why're you tellin' me?"

" _Because, numb nuts,_ if you help me find out, I'll share some of my cut with you."

Butters blinked, and then frowned, pulling away and shaking his head. "Sorry Clyde- that's a mighty tempting offer, but Dee's my _friend,_ and he _trusts me,_ an' his personal info ain't for sale."

"Not even for Heidi's phone number?" Clyde didn't give up. His contact had given him some ideas for how to rope Dee's friends in. "I could set you guys up. There's more up for grabs than _money,_ Butters. You could have a _real date_ for the next school dance, instead of coming in some lame _dude group."_

That seemed to strike him. Butters hesitated, lips puckering for a second. They were approaching the food court; the smell of cheap fast food signaling that this mob of people was nearing its goal.

"A lot of the girls are still pissed with you from fourth grade, y'know." Clyde pointed out. "This could buy a _lot_ of good will with my contact if she knew you _helped,_ and she could help change public opinion about you."

Butters began to chew on his lower lip, pensive as light blond eyebrows came down, thinking it over. Then, all at once, something seemed to click in to place.

Clyde was certain.

 _I've got him. This is gonna be a cakewalk._

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUN

Clyde ain't the brightest bulb in the box... then again, Butters is occasionally vulnerable to temptation. We'll see who won this round later ;3

A reminder that this series of stories has a Tumblr, and I've recently been writing little ficlet things on there that take place between stories. It's mostly little fluffy things, and none of it has any impact on the plot at large, but if you're thirsty for more Mysteributt it might give ya just what you're hankering for. Google JustCallMeButtlord and Tumblr and my page should come right up.

Secondary reminder that feedback is endlessly welcome, and that pumping up the number of reviews here on Fanfiction is a great way to help me attract new readers who might otherwise scroll right past this series. Even the smallest bit helps! Thank you for your support and readership!

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	7. Insert Leather Daddy Joke Here

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – [Insert Leather Daddy Joke Here]::**

Dee had been made slightly nervous when Kenny suddenly approached to take her aside. Her instant worry was that something had gone wrong with the plan, and Cartman was on to them, though she'd kept her usual casual stoic air when being led away from Clyde and Butters and out of the crowd. Kenny brought her as far as one of the decorative stone pillars that dotted the main atrium of the mall, currently ringed in garland and white lights for the holiday season, and erred on the far side of it to duck away from the general foot traffic of people doing their holiday shopping and/or bumming away their afternoon.

" _Does this **matter** to you?" _

The question was hastily spat out, like Kenny had been sitting on it for an extended period of time... and caught Dee out of left field. She'd been expecting a report of disaster for the energy she'd been catching off of him, and instead... what? She cocked her head at him, feeling her cheeks rise up beneath her eyes as one eyebrow quirked into a tight squint, the other rising up to make her the picture of skeptic confusion with a sucked in pucker beneath it all.

 _What in the name of **anime titties** are you talking about? Try using all the words, Kenny, seeing as I can't really use **any** right now. _

" _Don't give me that look, you **gotta know** what I'm talking about." _

Both eyebrows shot up, although eyes remained narrowed while her lips resolved into their usual _zero fucks to give_ flat line.

 _No, no I don't. And I fucking hate guessing games._

It wasn't like him to get distracted from the central mission- particularly not when Karen's happiness or safety was involved. All the serious consideration she'd taken in keeping Eric in the dark, all the effort she'd put into getting a mob of kids together who _wouldn't_ spill the beans to one fat asshole who could ruin everything, felt like built up momentum that slammed her straight into a brick wall as Kenny danced around whatever it was he meant to say, driven by some vague anxiety not to just _say it._

 _Oh fucking Christ, don't_ _ **tell**_ _me..._

The rounded shape of her eyebrows came crashing down, bold brown lines over green eyes as she pointed at the baby doll he was holding as if it were a breathing infant.

As if on cue, the thing started crying. For some reason, the crying of someone else's assigned torture device annoyed her more than the one she'd been assigned. The squalling was _more unbearable_ , somehow driving a tiny wedge between the links of her spine in her lower back and sending a wretched burst of disgust burning between her shoulder blades. Maybe it was from years of hanging out with Cartman, but hearing _anything_ cry like that, even a machine, made her want to _punch the source with all her might._

" _Fuck, again?"_ Kenny cursed, sounding no happier. _"I just changed you, so it better be something else..."_

"Did you kids come for the raffle?"

Dee turned sharply as a new voice interrupted from nearby. It had an odd quality to it; somewhat muffled, but not like Kenny where there was always something soft in front of the kid's mouth. No, no, more like putting a speaker in a metal bowl, amplifying the sound but also bringing in a tinnier quality; even if you had the treble at zero and the bass at max on your music machine of choice.

Maybe it was because she was already on a short fuse, but sight of where the voice had come from just about made her jump out of her skin.

It was a person in a mascot suit, but the suit wasn't made of the usual soft fabrics that usually went with the territory. No, it was obvious the suit had more structure, hard sections over limbs and overlapping pieces over joints, only then made more cuddly by the addition of fabric and faux fur, and turned extremely bulky with the final addition of clothing made to fit the cartoonishly proportioned mascot. She might have mistaken the whole thing to be a free-roaming animatronic, if not for the lack of gigantic glass eyes usually associated with the style. Instead, the head piece seemed strangely dark and hallow, with the glint of human eyes within, staring out... and, in this moment, down upon herself and Kenny.

The next she realized was that she'd seen this design before. This morning, when she'd been looking up Sneaker's- the mascot was a white mouse with a black leather and rhinestones aesthetic; the titular Sneaker himself; or rather, someone wearing a Sneaker costume.

A weird smell caught in Dee's nose. Something pungent but difficult to place, and mildly engaged her gag reflex the more she studied its unique quality. It wafted off the costumed man who had somehow managed to approach them without notice, despite the bulk of what he was wearing and how heavy it had to be.

" _Dude, the fuck smells like week-old jizz?"_ Kenny quested, not having turned to look when they'd been spoken to. No, he'd been desperately seeking a place to put his robot child down so he could go through his pockets with both hands and locate the bottle that had come with the baby for feeding it. The place of choice ended up being the flanged base of the stone pillar they'd taken refuge by; the edge was only a few inches wide but at about hip height. With the thing's screeching as motivation, he ensured the doll didn't fall by trapping it against the edge with his body, scoured his pocketed until he found the needed item, and hastily scooped the wailing machine back up before anything could go terribly wrong. It was only when he'd cradled the thing in one arm, moving to 'feed' it with the other hand, that he turned around and faced the strangely looming mouse mascot.

" _Whoa!"_

 _Understatement there, buddy boy._

"Today's the last day to sign up- I'm having a grand opening of my new pizzeria, right here in South Park!" The man in the suit jovially promoted, throwing his hands up in the air for for effect. Colored confetti actually released from his hands with a faint pneumatic _phunt_ sound, colored green, silver, and gold. "The results are going to be announced tomorrow morning on the local news, and one lucky kid is going to win a big Sneaker's-style bash for them and all their friends!"

She had to give the guy this, he had the right _energy._ The trouble was that the costume just made his whole song-and-dance land somewhere in the _uncanny valley._ In every way he was the excited mascot, drumming up extra hype, but something was _off_ in a way that made Dee's instinctual paranoia want to kick the guy straight in the leather-clad mouse nuts.

It didn't help that Kenny's baby was still crying. In fact, it seemed to be shrieking even louder than normal, as if the machine had the ability to be actually distressed.

" _We know!"_ Kenny piped up, though he lacked the anxiety that had settled in the pit of Dee's stomach. _"I brought a bunch of my friends to sign up, too! My sister has a birthday this weekend, and I'm hoping to win the party for her!"_

Dee shot a shocked glance back at Kenny. The hell was he saying all that to this creeper for? It wasn't like the guy in the mascot costume was going to change their odds-

"Really?" The man who was effectively Sneaker suddenly bent down so that his creepy, over-sized mascot head was on-level with them. "Well aren't you the best brother who's ever lived! That's so sweet of you- what's your sister's name?"

Eye to eye with the thing did not help the uncanny issue at all. Dee had decided, it was the eyes, or apparent _lack thereof._ She could see the shadowed hints of someone's face inside the head piece, the faint pin-pricks of light reflecting off of a human person's eyes, but aside from that they were ultimately dark holes in a cartoon face, taking something that was default fun and making it strange and unfamiliar.

Up close, she also noticed that the mouth of the mascot head wasn't stitched closed. No, she could see the upholstery end where buck teeth sat, and more teeth within. The jaw didn't move when the man talked, so it wasn't rigged up to pantomime speech... or maybe it was, and it was broken?

 _Why would it have so many teeth?_

" _Karen!"_ Kenny informed without hesitation. _"Karen McCormick- she's turning ten this Sunday."_

His baby was still flipping out. When the mascot bent close, Dee could have sworn it got even louder. The sound was stabbing into her ears, so much so that she feared they might start to bleed. Kenny was no longer focused on placating it, however, focused instead on this man and his strange-smelling costume.

The mascot man put a finger to the muzzle of his mouse-head costume, as if signaling for them to keep a secret. "Make sure to watch the drawing, kiddos... this little Karen McCormick might just turn out to be the luckiest little girl in the world."

With that, Sneaker suddenly stood up and away from them, flouncing off in a manner that could only be described as _gaily,_ no doubt to find another cluster containing kids still young enough to get excited about arcades and cheap pizza.

Almost as soon as he cleared their sight line, Kenny's doll stopped crying.

" _Jesus, that took long enough. I feel like Ace gave me a fussy one on purpose."_ Kenny sighed, shaking his head and pocketing the bottle, bringing the doll up to his shoulder to gently burp it, as they'd been shown. _"Blood-belching vagina..."_

Dee scoffed; he'd get no argument from her about the dolls being stupid, shaking her head a little. All that crying had been _painful,_ she did _not_ look forward to the day she had to look after the one she was sharing with Butters and Clyde- they'd insisted on naming it, too. _Izzy._ The pair had started acting like _baby-blinded dorks_ ever since Stan had his meltdown at lunch, as if being enthusiastic about this project were a performance of worthiness to possibly interested girls.

That said, Kenny's motions had a little more practice than what they'd been taught in class today. He appeared pretty comfortable patting the doll until it made the appropriate gurgling sound that signaled a successful burp.

Catching her sidelong glance, she watched his eyes widen before letting out a faintly self-conscious giggle. _"I got into babysitting for a bit, once- pretty good money for dressing and drag and getting thrown up on. I learned how to change diapers when Karen was still small- our parents sometimes got too fucked up to take care of her, and Kevin and I couldn't stand the crying anymore. Kevin read the directions, and since I was the little brother I had to do the gross bit. Came in handy for earning pocket change, until Cartman tried to get into the biz and ruined it."_

 _Checks with chart, Eric regularly does that. Wait, I think I actually remember- that was last year, and Cartman tried to make a competing baby-sitting agency and called it **Slut Babysitting,** and wires got crossed with the advertising. Whole thing blew up._

She nodded slightly, indicating she understood... though it made her even more confused. Kenny probably had more experience with the care of little ones than most boys in the grade- why was he getting wound up over what _she_ thought about that?

 _He's already a legit hero and cute as hell. Add on 'good with kids' and it's a wonder one of the more popular girls hasn't snapped him up- why does he even hang out with me? We're not even fucking, and he's always dealing with my bullshit. **Why hasn't he run for the hills by now?** If I were him, I'd think I'm more trouble than I'm worth. **I'm not even pretty.**_

" _Hey... so... back to what I was trying to ask you earlier."_

She blinked. She'd spaced again, and his muffled voice brought her back to earth with a small start and the fluttering of lashes. She shuddered her head a little, as if to shake her brains out of whatever terrible thought spiral she'd been about to engage in and meeting him directly with one of her even stares.

 _I don't give a flying fuck, Kenny. You've got enough going on, you don't need to worry about me getting weird about **this.**_

He stared back, and then smiled. His tightly pulled hood and scarf covered it, but she could still see it in the way his cheeks rose up. _Relief._ That was the look.

" _Cool."_

 _Cool._ That was one way to sum up _thank god we talked about this before it escalated into some bullshit that could **only** happen in this town with all its odd little quirks. _She smirked at him, considering a kidney punch but settling for a wheedling poke to his side that got him to wiggle away while laughing.

 _C'mon, ya dork. If we don't get back soon, Eric might suspect something._

" _Oh, shit, right. I... mighta told Cartman I'd talk to Heidi for him."_ Kenny informed her as they began to move, first back into the atrium and then starting the journey to the food court. The mob of kids they'd arrived with was gone; no doubt Eric had wasted no time in mustering 'his' troops for the task ahead.

 _Fuck me sideways with a Skyrim giant's club, you **what?**_ She inclined her chin to him, shoving her hands into the pockets of her black overcoat with eyebrows knitted together, caught between exasperation and surprise.

" _He was crying on the bus!"_ Kenny defended himself, adjusting his grip on his baby doll as they went. _"Has Eric ever gone full-pathetic on you? It's almost impossible to say no to him... and if I did, and he ruined the weekend with some over-complicated scheme, and he ruined Karen's birthday? I'd never forgive myself."_

She had to give him that one. She let out a sigh, shaking her head. The last time she'd doubted Cartman had not been long ago, and what she'd assumed was a ploy had turned out to be quite real- the guy had been kidnapped from his home as part of a plot by General Disarray. If she had taken that more seriously, she might have remembered to _take her fucking medicine_ that day and not get caught without her time-travel abilities at the most crucial moment. Instead, she'd rolled her eyes and assumed it was _just another day of Cartman being Cartman,_ and ended up damn near dead out of negligence.

Granted, he'd been part of _that,_ too, but keeping score was just another thing that got sticky when Cartman was involved.

" _Do you think I should ask Butters? He's got the best chance of getting through to Heidi..."_

 _And the best chance of taking the blame if she doesn't listen. Lookeet you, already setting up plan B to keep Eric away from your sister._ She frowned at him. _Reminder that **you're** the one that got me to treat Butters with the respect he deserves. I didn't manipulate time and space to save that kid from **death by gunshot** to set him up as a fall guy to protect your little sister's birthday._

" _Do you got a better idea?"_ Kenny quested flatly, maybe irritated at the accusing quality in her expression.

She considered that for a second. Did she? Butters was the obvious choice; Eric had already suspected the guy in trying to _steal_ Heidi, but that also created space for even worse possible backlash. Sure, Butters might get the full extent of the blame, but if at any point it was mentioned that _Kenny_ was the one who directed him, that would come back with an extra helping of _betrayal_ on top of _blind emotional rage,_ which was not unlike the _jizz-infused dollop of sour cream_ atop the bowl of _parental chili_ that they all knew Eric was willing to serve up in retribution for a grave enough offense.

The longer she considered it, the more she was certain who it had to be. If there was any hope of getting past Karen's birthday without a Cartman meltdown...

 _Me. It has to be me._

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

 _HOLY HELLO_ we just banged that shit out didn't we?

Man oh man we've been ratcheting up the _drama,_ haven't we? I might have to include that as the secondary genre on this one. I was going to switch it to horror once we got to the good stuff, but considering how much of the build up is centering on everyone's relationships... Ah, we shall see.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	8. Getting Confrontational

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Getting Confrontational::**

Karen had to admit, she might have gotten her hopes up when she heard that a new pizza place was holding a raffle- and that the results were getting announced _just in time_ for her birthday. It was the sort of serendipity that made her feel like something _had_ to work out in her favor, just this once... and so, this morning, she'd persuaded her group of friends to help bolster her odds by coming to sign up with her after school.

Persuaded might not have been the right word. _Begged_ was more like. Ike, the Jewish-Canadian _wunderkind,_ and the absolute worst potty-mouth, had rolled his eyes when she asked this morning. His response had been to point out the futility of trying when the chance of winning was so slim, retaining his position as the resident _cynic_ of their bus-stop quartet. It was only after Dougie observed that _any part of a percentage of a chance_ was better than _no chance at all-_ thus justifying the effort and reminding Karen why she still hung out with the guy despite his occasional villainous leanings, that Ike seemed even mildly interested.

At that point the group had been two for, one against, and one _utterly indifferent_ right up until Karen turned the puppy-dog eyes on Tricia... something even she had trouble giving the finger [or as they jokingly called it, _the Tucker Salute]_ to. With that, the score shifted to three-to-one, and Ike was forced to concede... though that didn't stop him from reminding everyone how slim the odds were _all day long._

The four of them had skipped out on the bus ride home, opting to instead just walk from school to the mall... and they weren't the only ones from their bus. There had been a handful of other elementary students who went the same way as them, up the road, down the street, across the parking lot and past the mall doors. Upon arrival, they found that the majority of mall-goers this afternoon appeared to be in the 'not adult' bracket, and that the density of kids simply went up the closer they got to the food court.

"It sure is _crowded-_ what's with all these older kids?" Dougie marveled as they found their place in a loosely organized line that wormed between foot court tables and ended up at a fold-out table that had been set up for raffle entrants to fill out their name and address on slips for the drawing.

"You're never too old for a chance at free pizza." Tricia noted flatly, nose pointed down at her phone. "My brother texted me that he's here, too, with his boyfriend, and a bunch of other middle-schoolers."

"... our odds are _shit."_

"Ike, watch your language!" Karen cried at the youngest of their number, turning on him with fire in her eyes as she planted her feet. "I don't care if the odds are crummy, I still wanna try! It's not like it's costing you anything!"

"If we're calculating off of the legal minimum wage, all of our combined time doing this is worth about forty dollars- assuming we're in line for a minimum of thirty minutes." Dougie observed, shoving one hand in his pants pocket while the other adjusted his thick glasses. "Then again, we're _children,_ so by law our time isn't allowed to be worth anything."

"Not helping, nerd." Tricia's inflection didn't change, though she did peer up from her phone to give Dougie a _look._ "I'm with Karen on this one- dare to wish a little. Don't go all Debbie-downer on us just so you can get into a smart-off with Ike; that doesn't end well. _Ever."_

Dougie blushed when accused of competing, and Karen saw Ike's face quirk into a victorious smirk for a split second. Tricia was good at keeping the peace in her... _intensely done_ manner.

"C'mon, Sunshine, line's moving."

" _Oh-_ sorry!" Karen squeaked, turning away from Ike to see that people had shuffled up, Tricia ensuring they didn't lose their spot to any opportunists who might exploit the gap.

"... you guys know this whole shit-fucking raffle is just an exploit for a new business to get everyone's contact information for advertising, right? Don't put your regular e-mail address on the form, or you'll be getting their spam for forever."

Karen half-way turned around again, but Tricia caught her. The girl was the same height as her, but she always seemed so much _stronger-_ both in personality and actual physical strength. It took nothing more than a hand on her shoulder to stop her from looking at Ike, correcting Karen to face front as her own posture returned to the default of looking down at her phone while endlessly scrolling on some media platform or another. From that _I am physically incapable of caring less about your petty BS_ stance, she intoned to Ike; "If you don't quit your bitching, I'm going to put _your_ e-mail on my entry. No one made you come, Ike. You can go screw off back to watching Fortnight let's plays if you _really_ don't care to be here."

"I'm _just_ saying-"

"Yeah, and if you _keep_ just saying I'm going to shove my foot in your open mouth. There might be some _actual_ shit on my shoe- and then you'd have something _real_ to complain about instead of flexing your _stupid genius brain_ all over the place."

Sometimes, Karen really wondered how in the world her little group held together. Oh, she knew why Ike and Dougie hung out with her- they had no one else. Ike was a gifted jerk with a knighthood [in Canada] who had been skipped up a grade, and Dougie was a little red head with coke-bottle glasses who'd already taken an early shine to engineering. Neither of those would be winning any popularity contests anytime soon. She was the poor kid, which made her too broke to participate with the general _girl-culture_ without being everyone's _pity friend..._ and she felt like she was at least a little better than that- a sign of an utterly outrageous sunny outlook on life that she lacked any evidence for believing in.

If it really were just the three of them, the group might have fallen apart. Dougie liked to build, Ike liked to tare down, and Karen just wanted everyone to get along... but then there was Tricia.

Tricia, who was too _done_ for Ike's pretentious cynicism, too _grounded_ for Dougie's big ideas, and too _calm_ to get swept up in Karen's own optimistic disposition. Tricia was almost like an energy sink, but not in the _everything is stupid black hole_ way that Ike sometimes projected. No, more like she brought it all in and gave it direction, taking the different personality types she was faced with and reminding them that _yes, everything **is** stupid. Now quit your bitching and have some fun._

They did have fun. A lot of the time. Just not _today_ , apparently.

After a long pause, she heard Ike let out a sigh.

A few seconds later, Dougie chimed in. "So, what are we gonna do on Sunday if we don't win?"

 _That was the real question-_ probably what Ike was getting at, too. He was trying to temper expectations, so that they'd be ready to do something else if this didn't work out the way Karen hoped it would.

"The park is always nice." She put forward. "It's supposed to snow- we could make a fort."

"Nah, screw that." Tricia shook her head, still holding Karen by the shoulder. It morphed, her hand sliding to pat her on the back. "I texted my dad earlier- we're all clear to spend the night at my place as a plan B- that way we can get some hot cocoa after playing in the snow."

"Nice!" Dougie cheered. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"Figured I'd save it back to cheer y'all up after the drawing." Tricia shrugged. "What's a birthday without a surprise, right?"

"B-but-" Karen felt her face getting warm. " _Tricia, you didn't have to do that..."_

 _People are always doing things for me. Do I always need saving?_

"I know." The utterly blunt girl smirked. "But it woulda been a nice come-back to whatever started spewing out of Ike's mouth, right? Now I gotta come up with a different zinger. _Thanks Dougie."_ She tossed over her shoulder.

"It's not like I'm _never_ supportive..." Ike grumbled. "There's just no point in getting hyped up if you're gonna come crashing down..."

"Sometimes the fun part _is_ the hype." Karen pointed out, slipping from Tricia's grasp to turn back towards the guys. "It's no fun if you never get excited for anything."

" _Hello, children!"_

There was a jovial voice that interrupted their conversation. Karen blinked and looked to find someone in a mascot suit appeared to have taken interest in them. She recognized the mascot from the ad that had brought her attention to the raffle in the first place; a white mouse in black leather that went by the name of...

" _Sneaker!"_ Dougie cried out, apparently finding all of his hype at once.

 _Ew, something smells like my brother's dirty laundry pile..._

The wrinkling of her nose was something that only got a split second of attention, realizing that the mascot had one hand occupied by a great many balloons tied with colored ribbons that curled at the ends. "Me and the gang are _ever so sorry_ for the wait!" The actor within the suit groveled, his tone enthusiastic and over-the-top. "Would anyone like a free balloon?"

" _Yes, please!"_ Karen volunteered at once, shooting her hand up in the air as if she were in class.

"He already offered, you don't gotta say please." Tricia snickered, putting her phone away for a second. "Me too, sure. And the guys- they'll pretend they're too cool for balloons... but they're not."

" _Hey!"_ Dougie complained, but that didn't stop him from grabbing the green ribbon for a bright yellow balloon when it was offered. Tricia knew what was up, and she'd taken a red ribbon connected to a white one.

"Thanks." Ike found his manners, though Karen was willing to bet his green balloon wasn't going to last long once Sneaker's back was turned. It was time for _goofy helium voices._

"Thank you very much." She echoed, putting as much genuine gratitude as she could into it as she selected a silver ribbon that connected to a bright pink balloon; something that matched the knit gloves she wore- a home made gift from her big brother. _Pink and black_ had become her color scheme recently, using the contrast to remember her goth phase from a couple years ago while still holding on to the light she liked to carry wherever she went.

"You're _very_ welcome, little girl." Sneaker assured her, his open hand closing but for a single fuzzy digit to poke her on the nose. She'd expected it to be soft and have a lot of give, like a fabric glove, but it was a lot more like getting booped by something mechanical. The suit was sturdy, not soft, with more structure. Either way, the attention made her laugh, and Sneaker stood up to continue down the line. "Remember to hang on tight to your balloons! If you let go, they'll fly away."

"We'll remember." Tricia assured, and Karen felt her hand on her shoulder again, sort of half-gathering her into a one-armed hug, holding her like that until Sneaker left their space for the next group in the line.

" _Fuck-knuckles_ that guy was _creep-tastic."_

"Ike!" Karen nearly squealed- the kid was such a potty mouth!

"No, no, one-hundred-percent." Tricia agreed. "What was up with that costume? The eyes were missing. Just... dark holes."

"I... didn't notice." Karen blinked as the group of four turned inwards to keep talking amongst themselves. She'd been excited about the balloons, and hadn't spent too much time focusing on Sneaker's face.

"Maybe it's a maintenance issue." Dougie posited, idly bobbing his balloon by tugging on the ribbon, though he had secured it to his wrist first. "I didn't think it was _too_ bad; the guy sold it with the energy."

As predicted, Ike had reeled in his balloon using the ribbon, grasping the green rubber globe with one hand and stretching the knotted end with the other once it was within reach. Like a vampire, he bit into it with his front teeth and audibly inhaled helium before speaking. _"His voice sounded kinda familiar- do you think they hired – pffftt- haha-"_

He'd tried to keep a straight face, but when one suddenly sounded like a cartoon forest animal? Almost no kid under ten was up to that task. Karen laughed, covering her mouth. Snickering, Ike offered the balloon over to Dougie, signaling him to take a turn.

"Ike, your _spit_ is on that, I don't want to-"

" _Wuss!"_ Tricia called out, which caused Dougie to make a face.

" _Oh,_ alright." Dougie accepted the balloon after ensuring the ribbon around his wrist was tight. It reminded Karen to tie her own balloon on, before it escaped. By the time she had it knotted, Dougie had a lungful... and decided to let it out as his best 'evil villain' laugh... _gone gnomish,_ which quickly devolved into actual laughter as he held his gut.

Even Tricia cracked up, motioning for Dougie to pass as she grinned. She took a few deep inhales of regular air, letting them out slowly before she drained what appeared to be half the balloon in one go. She held it a second, as if building up dramatic tension, before losing her nerve and breaking out laughing before she managed to say anything at all, squeaking uproariously while passing the balloon over to Karen; the last person in the circle before it went back to Ike. _"Crap- I couldn't- I- oh no, I've got the giggles...!"_ Tricia lamented as the balloon passed on.

Karen had no idea what she was going to do as she took it, but went for it all the same. Stretching the rubber, she inhaled the gas inside, considered for a second what might crack her friends up, and decided before she thought about it too hard.

She started to sing, throwing her head back and bouncing along as she started trilling in _ultra soprano "Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends? Why can't we- eh- hehehe-!"_

"You kids take it easy! Jeez!"

" _Party pooper!"_ Ike shouted back to an unknown adult who had complained from somewhere else in the line. He had somehow snatched the balloon back to suck in an extra gulp of helium before doing so, his defiant yelp in falsetto causing them all to crack up all over again.

 _This. This is why I hang out with this group._

The line shuffled forward, and she felt like it was all going to go alright. Even if she didn't win the raffle, she knew this was going to be a good birthday. _She could feel it._

* * *

Dee hadn't wasted time after going to the mall. She'd gone and stood in line with the mob of middle school kids she'd gathered, waved her goodbyes to Butters and Clyde, and then marched off to deal with the next item on her _to do_ list before she could kick back and call it the weekend.

 _It's almost like doing quests again... and they're just as dumb as they were back then. I even have a key item! **Ha-fucking-zah.**_

Said 'key item' was a note she'd gotten Kenny to pen before marching off on her own- she wasn't letting him dump the entire _go talk to Heidi_ thing on her. She needed something to _direct_ the conversation, and Heidi was a smart enough girl to get with the program when faced with genuine honesty... so that's what she had. A note from Kenny with an honest explanation of why they needed her to _be civil_ with Cartman for the weekend- the whole scheme was in there. The raffle, the kids Dee had gathered up who had put Karen's name in the hat, not Eric's, the hope for a birthday party and the possible retaliation they all feared, all in Kenny's... _oddly eloquent_ own words.

Seriously, kid had a whole different voice when he was writing shit down, like some old-English poet.

With that folded up and tucked in her pocket, she'd hoofed it back to the neighborhood and went straight for Heidi's house, taking it at a brisk jog just for the heck of it.

The breeze was picking up. The forecast had mentioned snow over the weekend. Hopefully it wouldn't get too crazy.

 _Or maybe it will get crazy. Eric's limited if he can't fucking go anywhere because there's two feet of fresh snow._

Arrival at Heidi's house didn't hold much in terms of tension. Whatever happened here was going to _happen,_ and Dee knocked on the door like a good neighbor and pushed her hood down while waiting for it to open. Static electricity from the fur lining made her curly-ass bangs stand even higher than usual, but she still had her black knit hat keeping the bulk of it in order. Thinking about her hair reminded her- brown roots were beginning to show. She needed to re-dye soon, if only for consistency's sake.

 _Maybe I can talk mom into letting me bleach and go for a new color. Blue would be cool._

The door opened, and Heidi's father appeared- jacked as he'd ever been. Even as a fitness junkie herself, Dee looked at this guy and could only think _why?_ Did he think he looked good with his veins popping out like that? He had to, why else would he wear short sleeves in fucking Colorado?

"Oh, hello there. Are you one of Heidi's friends from school? She _just_ got back from track practice..."

"Dad! I'm here!"

" _Oh,_ well then-" The man turned slightly, backing off as his daughter appeared beneath his elbow and then supplanted him in the doorway, smiling up when he looked down at her questioningly.

"Don't worry, daddy, I've got this." Heidi assured him, wearing a green and white 'Go Cows!' beanie on her head with the team's logo. Her hair was damp, as if she'd just stepped out of a shower... and on her hip was the mechanical terror she'd been assigned in science class this morning.

It was only after her father had vacated the doorway that Heidi actually _looked_ at who was there... and appeared surprised. She blinked, brows raised into the light brown fringe of her straight bangs. "Oh- _Dee,_ I... What are you doing here? Uh, can you wait a sec? I'll come outside. Dad's got rules about letting boys into the house, you get it? I just gotta dress this little girl up for the cold- ah, where's yours?"

As customary with people who weren't part of her circle of friends, Dee did not emote. She stared back, not even shrugging, blank faced and silent.

 _With Clyde, who was weirdly clingy for a guy who has his own group of friends. I suspect he's up to something._

"Oh, right, right, you had a group- makes it a little easier to split things up, huh? Wait right here, I'll be out in a second."

 _Alrighty. At least I'll have plenty of room to run if you get mad._

The door shut after an awkward beat of silence, and Dee stepped back down the front stoop to turn back out towards the street and wait. In her pocket, she fingered the note from Kenny, and wondered how the holy hell all this shit was gonna shake out.

 _If she gets mad, we go to plan B. Well, **my** plan B. Not Kenny's. Butters ain't taking the fall for this. _

'Out in a second' apparently translated to a full five minutes, enough so that Dee was idly scrolling through one of her social media feeds to kill time. Heidi exited her house wearing a legit child harness, with the baby doll dressed in full winter wear; from pastel purple hat to pink poofy coat to little tan boots. The girl herself had a brown coat shrugged up, and her hat pulled down over her ears. "So, what's up?" Heidi asked, perfectly pleasant as she shut the door behind herself and stepped down the stoop.

 _Might as well cut to the chase._

Dee pulled out the note from the pocket of her baggy ass cargo jeans, handing it over to Heidi.

"Huh? What's this? A note? … The secret is out, Dee, the school knows you're not a mute. Why don't you just speak up?"

 _I have no way to know who is obsession-prone and who isn't... and no safe way to test. Silence is better... but Wendy is working on it._

"... right. Okay, fine, I'll read it." Heidi shook her head, obviously finding it all a little ridiculous as she unfolded the notebook page.

Her expression hardened as she began to read. _Soured_ was a good word by the time she reached the end.

"... _wow._ Karen's birthday, huh?" Heidi asked. "Would Kenny back that up if I called him right now?"

 _Really? You think Eric would- no, no, yeah, he would go this far to get your attention and make you think it was your choice. Yeah, sure, knock yourself out._ Finally, Dee gave Heidi something- a nod. At the same time she tapped on her phone screen until her contacts were open, selecting Kenny's name off the list and holding it out for the suspicious girl. _Go nuts._

Heidi remained suspicious, looked at the phone, and then took it while cramming the note into her own jacket pocket. Dee was pretty sure she heard it tare as Heidi stabbed her finger at the 'call' button, followed by tapping the toggle for speakerphone.

It only rang once. _"Hello?"_ Was Kenny's voice, _anxious-_ of course he was. Dee never called him, and probably only would if it was a full-on emergency. That was a voice half-dropped into the Mysterion persona.

"Kenny? This is Heidi. You wrote me a note?"

" _Oh- oh! Heidi."_ All at once, the voice changed; Kenny was back to his higher default tone. Dee heard him faintly giggle on the line, the sort of laugh that didn't know what was going on. _"Yeah, I did, about Karen's birthday. I... I know it's a shitty thing to ask for, but-"_

"No, no, I get it- you're... you're just trying to do something nice for your sister. I... guess I can handle Eric for the weekend. _But you owe me!_ You and Dee, got it?"

" _Oh fucking Christ, yes, thank you. Got it. You have **no idea-"**_

"You're welcome." Heidi returned shortly, hanging up before Kenny could grovel and handing the smartphone back. The girl drew in a deep breath after that, letting it out through clenched teeth. "... and I'm gonna have _you_ cash in _right now."_ She added, turning her hazel eyes upon the bringer of bad news.

Dee blinked. She'd expected a level of despair, but Heidi seemed to take control of that. She made a smart turn to look at Dee head-on, and stared her down with a gaze that could freeze hell itself.

"What was with Eric's outburst in class? Why was he so desperate _not_ to get partnered with you? I've only seen him act like that about Kyle- _what do you have on him?"_

 _ **Fuck Mega-man's blaster like a fleshlight,** really? You... you're not gonna let me get away without answering, are you?_

She considered it. She _could_ try to run. She _was_ pretty fast... but Heidi was in track as a star sprinter. Dee was an endurance runner. In a 50-yard-dash, she suspected she'd not get far before the taller girl caught her.

With a sigh, she motioned at the other girl, gesturing at her own phone in an offer of information exchange. This was going to require _some_ words- it was time to trade phone numbers and start texting.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

THE PLOT THICKENS

Also we got to breathe with some wholesome goofery with Karen and her crew.

 _My fingers hurt now._

Also, for the _observant_ in the crowd who noted that this was going to be a 'FNAF ripoff' – the appropriate term is _parody,_ and yes, _I tried to make that_ ** _really_** _obvious in the story summary XD._ Just like the South Park show occasionally parodied things, I thought I'd try my hands at it... and see if I could _write a better FNAF novella than fucking Silver Eyes in the process._

 _I listened to that book as research for this project._

 _ **I don't know what I expected. I really don't.**_

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	9. Spoons are Dangerous

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Spoons are Dangerous::**

Walking around town with Butters today had given Kenny a lot of time to _think_ about what Alyssa had texted him earlier- about Karen. About how he thought of her, and her friends, and how _protective_ he could be when she was concerned. If he was really honest with himself, he'd been pretty grumpy at Alyssa for even questioning him- he _always_ had Karen's safety and happiness in mind. He reasoned that his girlfriend just didn't know what it was like- she lived a nice, middle-class lifestyle; she couldn't _possibly_ put herself in the shoes of a couple of poor kids and consider the kind of crap they dealt with on a regular basis.

That idea only lasted about ten minutes, shattered by a phone call. His phone had buzzed as he and Butters had been crossing town to check out local machine shops to see if anyone had been building anything weird lately, and shifting his baby doll to one arm to fish it out left him mildly frustrated... and all that evaporated into _raw panic_ when he saw it was Alyssa's phone calling him.

 _She never called. She always texted. She wouldn't do that unless something had happened._

Of course, it hadn't been her- it had been Heidi, verifying the note he'd written. Still, that burst of burning adrenaline had made a point intensely clear. What had gone through his mind when he thought it was Alyssa calling? That she was in trouble, hurt, captured, or otherwise. She dealt with dangers, too, unique to herself... and she knew _full well_ what it was like to have overprotective family members controlling her life. She knew full well what it was like to _resent them,_ and to go against the rules and expectations put in place to keep her safe.

She knew what it was like, breaking rules to do things _her way,_ frequently in a manner those protective family members didn't understand.

 _Fuck._ He thought to himself as it crashed in on him. _She's right._

He was actually kinda thankful when the hunt for weird shit at local machine shops came up dry. If they'd found something, he would have needed to spend time giving a report to Wendy, and planning a break-in for deeper investigation. Without anything throwing up red flags after walking around town all afternoon with Butters, he was free to just _go home..._ And for once, that's all he wanted to do. He told Butters as much when the boy invited him to come in for a second after walking him home; politely declining with a mention of "Family stuff" he needed to attend to.

Checking his baby doll, whom he'd dubbed _Chuck_ because damn he wished he could throw the thing once or twice, he shrugged his coat up a little tighter before making the trek to the shitty part of town, passing by the homes of all his friends on the way. The sun had hit the horizon a bit ago, and it was that time of year where night took over the town so fast it was almost surreal. Clouds that had been orange with the fading light became dusky blue all at once, and what had been a gentle breeze most of the afternoon whistled between houses as a more cutting wind.

 _Maybe it'll snow on Sunday. Karen would love that- she always gets excited for fresh snow._

The house was strangely _quiet_ this evening; Kenny knew Mom was out because she'd found temp work this week, but Dad didn't appear to be around either. Instead, Kevin had made himself the resident lump on the couch, a remote mostly wrapped in duct tape loosely gripped in a half-asleep hand as the eldest of the McCormick siblings nodded off in the uneven light of commercials from their ancient tube TV. Next to him, occupying the same space a person would, as a half-empty bottle of something wrapped in a paper bag.

… _you need to find work, dude. You can't keep wasting like this. You're never gonna get out of here if you do._

The thought was as much directed at his brother as it was at himself- supernatural facets aside, he didn't intend to spend the rest of his life in this shit. He needed to pick up more volunteering hours- stuff that would make a future resume look good. The moment he _could_ find gainful employment, he was going to throw himself at it. For now, he'd keep doing odd and dangerous shit for cash, and putting bits of it away for Karen. Even if _he_ never made it out of here? He was going to make sure _she did._

 _This place can't eat all of us alive. I won't let it._

He quietly slipped through the living area, passing into the hallway and stopping off at his room to drop his school bag before finally turning to his sister's room. He knocked- he promised her that he would _always_ knock, since their parents didn't when they were fucked up. Suddenly opening doors scared her, so he waited until he heard her voice from inside.

" _Just a sec... okay, come in."_

He pushed on the door, the knob long broken and the catch stuck inside the hinged slab of wood. Karen's call of 'just a sec' had been for her to remove a bit of bunched up scrap cloth from the bottom, which kept it from swinging on its own. She was just inside, tossing that bit of cloth aside and returning to a second-hand corner desk he'd gotten for her at a yard sale about a year ago. It had been red when he bought it, but with the help of his friends and some spray paint he'd turned it white, and Karen had since decorated it with a number of other colors and covered it in doodles using markers. Add on a little battery-operated LED reading light and clamped on to the edge of the desk, and a cheap bean-bag chair, and she had the best nook in the whole house for doing homework and doodling.

It was a bright spot compared to everything else- at least their parents had finally gotten her a real bed frame a bit ago, instead of just having her sleep on a mattress on the floor.

 _Wonder if Alyssa would get mad at me if I asked her to use her powers to find out what the next lotto numbers are gonna be... mom and dad would probably drink half of the money away, but **damnit** this isn't what a little girl's room should look like. _

"Hey, punk." Kenny greeted as Karen plopped herself back into her beanbag chair. The thing was worn, a few of its beans on the floor. Karen's hand stitching could be seen where she'd repaired it a few times, always using bright colors against the original black faux-leather material. "You busy rockin' it out in here?"

"Always a party." She commented back, laying almost flat on the beanbag to put her feet up on the surface of her desk and hang her head back, looking at him upside-down. " _Wha-_ what's that? Why do you got a doll?"

" _Child development class."_ Kenny smirked, having himself a seat on the floor, sitting cross-legged and setting the fake child down in the crook of his knee to finally give his arms a break. "He _cries_ and everything. What you up to?"

"History essay- we're covering the civil war."

" _Over the weekend?_ The elementary teachers have gotten _mean."_

"It's not due till Wednesday, I just wanted it done-" She paused, righting herself in her chair and wiggling around until she could sit properly and face him. "Uh... my friends wanna hang out on my birthday- over at Tricia's house. She's already okayed it with her dad. I know _we_ usually hang out, but... I know you're mad at Dougie, and..." He watched her face twist, as if she were trying to find the right way to say something that couldn't be said.

He blinked. _How the hell had he missed this?_ Was she _afraid_ to tell him that she just wanted to hang out with her friends?

 _Did I make my approval that important?_

"Pause and rewind, punk." He stopped her, putting a hand out and then swirling a finger back like he was winding an old-school cassette. "You picked up a new outfit and you didn't even tell your big brother your origin story- since when do you play super heroes?"

Her face flushed, and her hands gathered against her chest as if she were holding something ineffable and precious between them. Was she embarrassed? Surprised? Probably a little of both. "A—ah... _about that..._ It wasn't my idea. _The costume,_ anyway. Or the name. Or... _any of it,_ really."

 _I fucking knew it!_ For a moment he declared victory over Alyssa in his head- he was right; it was _all_ Dougie's fault and Karen was blameless.

Then it ebbed away as his stupid brain reminded him not all was explained.

"... then why aren't _you_ mad at Dougie?"

"I am!" She declared, though speaking up was immediately followed by covering her mouth, as if she'd just swore at him or something. Her eyes were wide, and she hesitated, as if she expected to be interrupted.

When he didn't say anything, she slowly went on.

"I mean... I was. But he didn't _make_ me do it. I... I signed on because he said I'd get _paid-_ I wanted the money because you're... you're always doing _all_ these nice things for me." Slow and faltering, she gained both strength and speed as she went on. "You're always looking out for me, getting me things, being... being _great,_ and I just wanted to do something for _you_ for once. So Dougie said he had this thing to do, and I made him promise no one was gonna get hurt, and when he did I agreed to help out- and then I found out about the _kidnappings,_ and I defected and... figured I'd make money some other way... A-and sure! I was mad at Dougie at first, he's always getting these big ideas and taking them _way_ too far, but he apologized and I forgave him, so _that's that."_

 _I just wanted to do something for you for once._

Of her entire explanation, that was the part that went swirling around in his head. He never figured she would feel that she _owed_ him- and knowing that she did made him reflexively want to reassure her that she _didn't owe him anything,_ that he looked after her because _he loved her and wanted her to be happy..._ but telling her not to feel a certain way was silly. People felt the way they felt.

"... are you mad at me?"

He blinked. _No, never. I'm never mad at you. I can't be mad at you- it's never your fault. You're the one I'm protecting. You're my perfect little sister, and you can't do any wrong._

 _ **You were always the perfect little damsel in distress.**_

"... not this time." He sighed, feeling as if he'd just taken a punch to the gut. One of Alyssa's, the kind where she'd thrown her whole body into it and he couldn't breathe for a few moments after the impact. Maybe he had- in a strange metaphorical way.

"But I did something _bad."_

Her voice had gotten very small. It was still red, but no longer from embarrassed blush. No, it was the patchy flush that suggested she might cry. Her eyes had gone glassy.

"We all do bad things sometimes." He confessed, reaching out and putting a gloved hand on her head, ruffling up her hair. "At least you had some good intentions- when I was your age, I was doing bad shit all the time for _stupid_ reasons... you probably will, too. Hopefully less than me."

 _Definitely less than me. You at least still have the fear of death and bodily harm keeping you out of the truly stupid shit._

He watched as tears streaked down her cheeks, but her mouth curved into a smile anyway. Quietly, a bittersweet understanding had been reached, and she slipped from her beanbag chair to get on her knees and hug him; something he accepted with open arms as she began to properly cry.

As if in solidarity, the baby doll in his lap began crying as well- though it could be better described as _screeching._ It made Karen jump, falling back on her butt and staring at the thing as Kenny sighed, rolling his eyes as he turned his attention to the noisy little fucker.

 _Way to ruin the moment, Chuck._

* * *

" _And now for the news program that starts your day off right, it's Good Morning South Park!"_

Eric was not in the habit of waking up early enough for the morning news on a Saturday, but certain exceptions had to be made in the name of free pizza. In the theater of his own mind he had already seen it happening; his name being drawn and announced on local television, the party, and the fact that once he was named as the winner he could simply _not invite any of his friends,_ meaning all the prize bags and free tokens for the arcade would be his, and there would be no lines for any of the machines- he would be the _king_ of the arcade once his name was drawn, and _no one_ would be able to stop him from winning all the prizes and getting all the freebies. They could complain all they liked, and he could just have Sneaker and his animatronic band _throw them out._

 _Or maybe tie them up and force them to watch as I eat all the free pizza. Particularly Kyle._ _ **I'll smear the grease on his stupid jew face.**_

Ah, the vision was _sweet,_ but sweeter would be the truth of watching the segment himself while enjoying his favorite bowl of sugary breakfast cereal- so despite the tradition of sleeping until noon on a Saturday, Eric had himself upright and on the couch in time to catch the top story, crunching away on his off-brand fruit loops while waiting for the human interest stories to hit.

" _... which brings us to a special bit of local news- a brand new pizzeria and arcade is opening here in South Park, part of the popular **Sneaker's SnacShak** chain. They're actually holding a raffle today, and one special kid in South Park is going to win a free party with **all** the bells and whistles- here with more is a midget in a bikini, and a cowboy hat."_

"God _damn,_ midget's getting old." Eric snickered between mouthfuls of sugary junk and milk, smirking as the news program cut from the studio to their live on-location reporter. "Careful, Midget, they might replace you with a cripple in a dog suit or some shit like that." He laughed at his own commentary, doubting an actual change. The midget was a staple to South Park news, as was his bright pink bikini.

" _Thanks Tom! I'm right outside the new restaurant, where the full band of mascots have joined me for the special drawing. We have Sneaker the mouse, Scratcher the cat, Sniffer the dog, and fan-favorite **Spike** the hedgehog. As you can see, this pizzeria has a leather-and-rhinestones aesthetic that is **just** old enough that the restaurant's target audience doesn't know about the debouched and schlocky history associated with it, thus making it charming to market to kids, and giving their parents a charge of nostalgia in the process. It might also surprise you to know that the band here with me aren't just stage-bound props for the stage, but **free-roaming** animatronics that can entertain children and serve cheap pizza, which we can bet cuts down labor costs big-time."_

"Get to the drawing already!" Eric grumbled at his TV, waving his spoon as if he could threaten the news anchor through the screen as he stood in front of waving robotic performers. There was a box in the frame, too- no doubt the one they were going to draw a name out of as soon as they were done _plugging_ the place.

" _Alright, Sneaker, are we ready for the drawing?"_

The bikini-clad little person turned to his mechanical company, holding out his mic for a synthesized voice _oozing_ enthusiasm to respond.

" _You bet we are! Let's open the box and find out who the lucky kid is!"_

Eric scooted to the edge of his seat on the couch as one of the other robotic actors removed the lid from the box in front of them- Scratcher the cat in particular, who appeared to be the only _feminine_ robot among the group, dressed in a tight mini dress that would have been scandalous on an actual human person. She also had a disquieting amount of teeth in her cartoonish smile, glassy green eyes staring into the camera the whole time as she preformed her task.

 _Oh boy, here we go._

Sneaker did the honors, reaching a furry robotic hand into the box and coming back with a single folded slip of paper. The midget then took it, flipping it open to read to the viewers at home.

" _And the winner is..."_

 _Eric Cartman. Eric T. Cartman. Say it. Say it. SAY IT._

" _Karen McCormick! Congratul-"_

Eric was certain he didn't know how the TV had broken. It certainly wasn't because he'd hucked his spoon at the screen as hard as he could in a blind fit of rage. No, no, that would be ridiculous- he was a perfectly well-behaved young man, not at all prone to bouts of anger that were occasionally destructive to both people and things around him. Certainly it _slipped_ from his hand and happened to fly at the TV with enough force to smash the screen and embed itself, blue sparks of electrical current running the course of the metal object before the electronic broke completely and began to emit foul smelling smoke... and if something slipped from his hand with that much force, it was only because he was so beefy he didn't know his own strength. He couldn't be blamed for that.

 _No, not at all. Total accident. Utterly._

He swallowed thickly.

 _Karen McCormick. Kenny's little sister. How did she win? She's poor. Poor kids don't get parties. **She didn't deserve it.**_

"Eric, sweetie- _oh my goodness, what happened?"_

His mother's sweet voice interrupted his thoughts, gulping slightly as he glanced between the robed woman who had just come down the stairs and the rather thoroughly destroyed television.

"I- it- it was an _accident, mam."_

" _Sweetiekins,_ we've talked about throwing things at the TV when it makes you mad- it doesn't help." His mother lectured, rushing over to the broken appliance and yanking the electrical cord before a fire started. "Is- is that your breakfast spoon?"

"It slipped!" He insisted. "I didn't mean to-"

" _Eric, I'm not hearing it right now."_ His mother put her hands on her hips, rounding on him and glowering. Apparently violating the sanctity of Saturday morning was going to have some kind of _consequence._

 _Whatever. Just means I can plot my revenge in my room- go ahead mom, ground me. I don't even care. Everyone sucks and they deserved to be punished- I could use some good **stewing** time._

Before punishment could be meted out, however, the doorbell rang. His mother blinked, looking over with wide eyes and then back at her son. Eric, in truth, was equally confused. No one was coming over today, he didn't have plans with anyone... and none of his friends could have made it over _that_ fast to comfort him, minus maybe _Douchebag._

"Don't you move a _muscle, mister."_ His mother told him as sternly as she could manage, tightening her fuzzy morning robe and moving to answer the door. For once, Eric did as he was told and remained still, peering after her as the doorbell rang again, reflecting some impatience with whomever was calling on the Cartman residence at this hour.

The door opened, and Eric was tempted to pinch himself. The nightmare of his morning, all at once, became a dream.

 _Heidi was on the doorstep._

 _She had their baby._

"Hi, Miss Cartman. Can I... can I come in?"

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

Kenny finally has a serious talk with his sister and realizes _yes, she's human. Good boy._

And Eric... is Eric. XD

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	10. Cheerful Nihilism

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Cheerful Nihilism::**

" _We won! We won, we won, we won, WE WON!"_

To say Karen was _charged up_ after watching the drawing would have been an understatement. The girl was so amped up she was literally doing cartwheels in the street as Kenny walked with her to carry out a few _Saturday errands;_ not least of which was going to Sneaker's and picking up the voucher that confirmed that Karen was, indeed, the lucky winner of the drawing. Before that, however, he had a certain _mechanical horror_ to get rid of as fast as possible, which meant they were traveling the sidewalks to get to his lab partner's house and dump the simulated child on his simulated mother for the weekend.

He might have joined his sister in her excited bouncing, but the doll currently cradled in his arms had woken him upwards of _seven times_ the night before, ensuring that sleep was minimal and of poor quality. His contribution to the celebration was a warm smile and a ruffling of her hair with his free hand as she returned to walking at his side. Giggling, she took his gloved hand off of her head and held it in hers, containing her bounces for the moment. Then, all at once, she seemed to realize something and yanked her hand away to pull out the cellphone he'd given her to help her stay in contact.

Glancing down, he saw her opening a group chat with her friends. Seeing as _no one else_ had made a post since yesterday afternoon, he had to guess none of her buddies actually _watched_ the drawing this morning. Karen was excitedly typing in all caps, and he decided to give her a little privacy by not peeping any further.

A few more steps down the sidewalk, and Karen let out a sharp laugh.

" _What's up?"_ Kenny quested through his scarf, checking house numbers. He knew he was on the right street, but he'd never been to Sammy's before- but it seemed they were only a few houses down. _Now I just gotta hope Chuck doesn't decide to need a change between here and there. If he's crying when I get there, she might refuse to take him, or accuse me of doing a bad job._

"Ike and Tricia." Karen responded, lagging behind a little as she tapped out a response, glancing up, and trotting to keep up with her brother's longer strides. "Ike's all like _miracles do happen_ and Tricia's like _shuttup and be happy_ and-" She shook her head, the twin braids she'd done her hair in today flopping back and forth over her shoulders. She'd fully embraced her black and pink theme this weekend, with a heavy black sweater and lace choker, but with pink gloves, a pink buckle on the choker, and pink bands tying off her hair. If the sweater got shrugged down on her shoulders, one could spy a pink undershirt. She had a long black skirt that the wind batted at, with somewhat uneven little skulls and crossbones that alternated pink and white that she'd personally embroidered into the hem, finished up with pink leggings and black boots.

Kenny had found a lot of that stuff at second-hand stores for her. Some of it, like the big heavy sweater and the boots, had actually been gifts from Henrietta- the two girls still talked, even after Karen stopped wearing eyeliner and decided coffee was a little too bitter for her. It was also Henrietta that taught Karen how to embroider, letting her take 'old poser clothes' and turn them into something of her own style. Apparently Henrietta still filed Karen as 'just goth enough' to be nice to, and tended to hand off anything she'd grown out of to Kenny so he could pass it on to Karen.

 _I feel like we should tell her about the drawing- she'd probably turn down an invitation, but it would let her know we thought about her._

" _All the usual noises, sounds like."_ Kenny smirked. _"Think we should grab 'em before we go collect your golden ticket?"_

"Ike just asked if we're gonna meet up." Karen confirmed with a nod. "Where should I tell 'em?"

" _Bus-stop should be good."_ Kenny noted, thinking about it. _"Tell Ike to bring Kyle? I got some crap to do with my friends today, too."_

He'd text Kyle and the others as soon as he had both hands free for it. He was _certain_ the doll reacted to cellphone use; every time he had his in his hand, it seemed _that's_ when Chuck would start crying for no goddamn reason besides ' _pay attention to me!'_. Stan was already part of his plan for the day, along with Alyssa, Butters, and Wendy. If Kyle was tacked into the group, it at least made them all part of the conspiracy that had screwed Cartman out of a pizza party... and would probably make Stan's cooperation a lot more likely and a little less bitchy.

Thankfully, they'd arrived at Sammy's house, and Chuck was still quiet.

Ike was right, _miracles did happen._

"On it." Karen stated, hanging back as Kenny mounted the doorstep and knocked, eagerly awaiting release from his responsibility so he could focus on helping his little sister have a happy birthday.

* * *

"I get the feeling your brother and his friends are _up_ to something."

Karen had noticed that whenever a group of five or more people were going anywhere, they inevitably broke up into groups. Whether it was a car getting split into two conversations that occasionally crossed over when someone laughed or shouted, or walking down the street and splitting into clumps according to walking speed, a separation always occurred. This rule held true when she and her brother arrived at the bus stop; Tricia, Dougie, and Ike had been waiting for them, with the addition of Kyle and Dee. As they moved out, heading north into downtown before they hung a left towards restaurant row and the edge of town, the split occurred between age groupings. Dee, always with his head down over his phone and his curly red hair tucked beneath his black knit hat, took the lead while tapping away at something on his screen. Kyle and Kenny stuck close to him, opening up a muted conversation that _probably_ started with Kenny expressing his sympathies about Kyle's possession of his own robotic baby... which Karen could only assume was coded male by all the blue clothing.

It was Tricia who had aired suspicion, peering up at the trio of boys who led the way, Kyle currently 'feeding' his doll after it had started crying during the walk.

"Oh, they are." Ike agreed. "Kyle got all _weird_ when I told him to come with, asking if Kenny said why he wanted to meet up and packing his pockets with random shit when I said I didn't know. Guy should just get a fucking _purse_ like mom so he can carry all his stupid contingency plans everywhere he goes. Fucker's _neurotic."_

" _Interesting."_ Dougie observed. "Butters has been excitable since Thanksgiving, as well as secretive. Tricia, has your brother been _weird_ lately?"

"Do I look like I spy on my brother?" Tricia responded flatly, shaking her head. "Craig's the same as always; not giving a fuck; same old, same old. I'm just saying, _those guys_ look like they're up to something. Enough of something that the _boyfriends_ aren't walking next to each other."

"No, they're just like that." Karen chimed in. "When other people are around, Dee tends to take point."

" _Wait,_ those two are _actually_ dating?" Dougie blinked. "But the rumor is that Dee's going out with _Butters."_

"Red herring." Ike debunked without room for debate. "Stan told Kyle after a girl in their class figured it out the day after Halloween- the hot one, Bebe."

"They're not exactly doing great keeping the secret themselves- Craig caught them hugging in the boy's bathroom last week." Tricia smirked. "It's only a matter of time before the yaoi girls catch wind of it, and then the whole town is gonna know."

"But that means _Mysterion_ and _Buttlord..."_ Dougie murmured in shock. "A _real_ superhero couple. We have an _actual_ super-ship in South Park."

"A _gay_ super-ship." Tricia actually smirked. "I guess the artists were _right_ about the dynamic then- Buttlord is a total _dom_ if Dee is always the one hopping in front... not sure about the whole _Mysterion wears a collar under the cape_ thing, though."

" _Guys-"_ Karen cringed, feeling like she could gag. "That's my _brother_ you're talking about, can we... not?"

It wasn't like Karen was _unaware_ of the yaoi community, or the attention it paid to Mysterion once the town noticed he was regularly partnering with _the mysterious farting vigilante._ She'd even been rather interested in the art, before she figured out that Mysterion was her _brother._ Then... well, it felt weird looking at the stuff that curved to the sexual side of the spectrum. She liked the _cute_ stuff though- the idea that her guardian angel had someone to look after him and love him was something even _she'd_ done a little sketching of in her amateur hand.

 _Oh god, I think that's still hidden under my bed. I should find a better stash for it before Kenny finds it- **so embarrassing.**_

"Seconded- I don't need to remember the _Human Kite/Buttlord_ camp and the weird shit they extrapolated from those guys gliding between buildings together on _fart power."_ Ike agreed. "For some fuckin' reason every artist thinks my brother is in love with getting farted on like he's the biggest puss in town."

"Well, there was that one time he kinda told everyone he was into eating the fat fucker's farts..." Tricia reminded.

" _You guys!"_ Karen demanded, intent on yanking the conversation back on track. Today wasn't about intrigue or the weird things some artists got up to- today was about _them._ "We should be thinking about who else we're gonna invite to the party! I mean, I've got you guys, but the pizza party is for like... _twenty_ kids, not four."

"And your brother and his boyfriend- that makes six." Dougie assessed with a lack of enthusiasm.

"I wasn't gonna- I mean-" Karen tripped up on her words, tugging on one of her braids as a nervous action. She had been a little nervous that her friends would think it was lame of her to invite her brother, but it sounded even _lamer_ to ask if they were _okay_ with her inviting him.

 _Better lame than impolite._

"I wanted to check with you guys first- in case you didn't want him there."

"Do you think he'd _actually stay away?"_ Tricia quested. "Big brothers are idiots. It's their default setting."

"I... yeah, actually. We had this talk, and... _yeah."_ Karen was uncertain of what kind of detail to go into on that note. The talk she'd had with her brother felt like the beginning of a conversation that would keep going for a while, the opener of which was _she is capable of messing up._ She felt like the next part of that conversation was _and he can't always be there for her,_ but those words hadn't been said. A lot of words, actually- but a new vector on their relationship has siblings had been opened up. One that understood that she wasn't always going to be perfect and do what was expected, and maybe he could be okay with that.

She didn't _know_ what all that meant, but she felt freer after that talk. Like he _understood_ something about her that he hadn't before.

"Give 'em a curfew." Ike suggested. "Kyle gets weird if I _uninvite him_ from something, but if I tell him to buzz off after a certain time he gets it- that I wanna spend time with _my_ friends without him fussing like _mom number two-_ let the big kids show up and eat cheap pizza, and then send 'em all home at six so we get the arcade to ourselves- _it's your party."_

"But that feels _mean."_ Karen argued.

"Meaner than telling him he can't come?" Tricia tested. She actually pulled out in front of their group, grasping Karen by the shoulders and causing them to fall behind as the trio of elders kept walking. "Karen, it's _your party._ If you want your brother to be there, we'll deal with it. Heck, I'll probably invite my stupid brother, too, just so there's more people to sing the stupid song before you blow out your candles. What is gonna make this _your best birthday party?"_

Karen felt herself color, glancing over Tricia's head at the trademark orange shape of her brother, who hadn't yet noticed that his sister had been delayed. Tricia moved to block her view, getting even more in her face and forcing eye-contact.

" _Hey,_ no! _You!_ What's going to make this the best for _you?"_

She swallowed, feeling her cheeks warm as Tricia refused to give her an inch. "I mean- uh-" She stammered, shoulders drawing in and up beneath her over-sized sweater; the one that had the smell of stale cigarette smoke permanently soaked into it from its previous home with Henrietta. It was a smell that was comforting for Karen; Henrietta was the first person she'd felt comfortable going to for advice outside of Kenny, and the first person to tell her that _she_ got to make choices. _Nothing matters, so do what you want-_ that was the nihilism that had her lighting her first cigarette and drinking her first cup of black coffee.

It was also that credo that made her switch to a bubblegum flavored vape, and put sugar and cream into that coffee. The rest of the goth clique gave her crap for it, but she'd told them; _'If nothing matters, I can do what I want- and I want to enjoy things'_

She was lucky Henrietta defended her; she might have crumpled under the pressure of the group if she hadn't, coming up with the term _cheerful nihilism_ to placate the others. Vapes got banned not long after that, but Karen kept putting cream and sugar in her coffee whenever she got invited to hang out with them... or, more accurately, with Henrietta. The others just happened to _be there._

 _I should invite her. Even if she doesn't come, just to show I thought of her._

"I wanna invite the big kids, too." Karen decided. Her voice was not small. Her shoulders relaxed back down. "I want a full party, with lots of people."

"Then that's what your gonna get." Tricia nodded. "And I will _beat the living piss out of anyone who tries to ruin it for you._ Deal?"

" _Dear fucking Jehovah_ would you two rug munchers just get a _room_ already?" Ike cracked in the background.

"Shove it up your ass, Ike!" Tricia snapped, "I swear I will beat your Canadian face with your own hockey stick!"

" _Hey!_ Guys, you're falling behind!"

Heads snapped around; the trio of older kids had finally noticed that they'd been losing the other half of their group. Kyle had put one hand up to his mouth, the other still carrying his simulated child, to shout back at them and get their attention. Kenny was half-turned, waving for them to hurry up. Dee was still walking, the embodiment of _zero fucks to give_ about the rest of the group slowing down.

Karen laughed, and trotted out ahead of her friends to catch up, Tricia and Ike lagging behind to argue over whether or not Ike got immunity of birthday beat-downs due to being part of the 'core' group. Just up the way was South Park's little restaurant row, with a new dark brick building that bore a brand-new and brightly colored sign.

 _Sneaker's SnacShak;_ the site of what would be her best birthday party- _her happiest day-_ no matter what anyone did to try and mess with it.

She'd decided.

Dougie lingered at the back of the pack, silent and slow.

* * *

Dee felt like she couldn't frigging escape these little mechanical monsters- Kenny was finally rid of his for the weekend, but Kyle's deal with his partner had been the exact opposite; agreeing to weekend childcare in return for help with schoolwork. She supposed even the _smarty pants_ in the grade could apply for a break every now and then- at least Kyle wasn't treating it like it was some kind of performance art to attract attention from possible dating opportunities. Half-listening to him and Kenny talking, they had started with a _situation report_ on the search for weird shit at local machine shops and transitioned into bitching about how fuckin' needy and annoying the little dolls were.

She'd been preoccupied during the walk, shooting texts between herself, Wendy, Stan, and Butters. They had already picked up the legwork where Kenny and Butters had left off yesterday, with Wendy promising to report in if they found anything of interest. It made her anxious that nothing had been found yet- were they off on a wild goose chase? Paranoid tension was something that settled into her shoulders so naturally it felt normal- the _only_ reason she noticed it was because of the brief handful of days she'd spent thinking she could _fucking relax_ after the incident with the _Bitch of the Union._

Thinking it was over, letting it go, trying to _be normal_ for a while- calling it a _vacation_ in her head... it was almost a relief when she was proven wrong. It meant she didn't have to expend effort on trying to relax; _tension was the correct state._ The one she needed to be in if she was going to be ready for whatever new shit came down the pipe.

 _I feel like I should get a gun. For emergencies._

There had been a brief pause in the walk; Karen and her friends lagged behind just as they were almost to their destination. Dee didn't look back as Kyle shouted for them; Kenny would signal her if she needed to pay attention. She trusted those two dorks to walk behind her- they were both the sort that would speak up if something was wrong, and let her focus on getting shit sorted for the rest of their day.

" _Whoa, slow your roll short stuff-"_

Kenny, laughing as Karen suddenly blasted between the three of them and took the lead, turning around and bouncing backwards like an animated pogo stick. She had a grin on her face that spread from ear-to-ear, her skirt swirling out as she spun and flowing after her little hops in a manner that mimicked a jellyfish propelling itself through water.

"Slow is for last place!"

It was Ike who made that declaration, the next to blast through the line of elders and past Dee's elbow, causing her to skip to one side in tracking with the incoming footfalls. All at once, it appeared a race had been engaged, and Karen had a head start. Tricia was next, and Kenny joined in after that with a whooping laugh.

Dee glanced to Kyle, who laughed faintly and shook his head. No way he was breaking out into a sudden run; it might shake his baby and make him fail the project.

In her backward glance, she noted another... _lingering_ redhead. Dougie. He had his hands stuffed into his pockets, not even jogging to catch up. He was still _way_ behind. Kyle noticed her backwards gaze, and looked himself, pulling a face and a shrug as he looked at her again.

She waved a little at Kyle, falling back herself. Her signal was a pretty simple one; _Don't worry, I got it._

Kyle confirmed with a nod, and started speed walking to catch up with the others.

* * *

 **::The Author's Corner::**

HOLY BALLZ WE BE ALIVE.

Discussions of the yaoi community were fueled by asks from the Tumblr. I felt it would be funny to reference some of the _extra curricular_ information that turns up over there.

So a little outside-the-fic info; a friend of mine is going through a shitty time and I am doing my best to support them during said shitty time. Obviously this is gonna pull some energy from the other things I do, thus the recent slow-down in updates after that week of knocking 'em out like it wasn't no thang. I know you all understand, I just wanted to keep the regular readers informed on what the heckie is going on.

Also hey, FNAF VR got announced. I have a PSVR, sooo... hey, I might actually _play_ this one myself instead of watching Markiplier murder himself to maintain his King of FNAF crown.

Hubby may or may not video me smacking myself in the face while freaking out- Buttlord is _extremely susceptible_ to jump-scares.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	11. Mute Counsel

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Mute Counsel::**

" _What?"_

Dee had to back track a little bit to get to where Dougie was on the snow-dusted sidewalk, lagged so far behind as to not even be up to the _corner_ of the new pizzeria, much less the doors. Considering his slow, foot-dragging pace, his ETA was somewhere between _next week_ and _heat death of the universe._

He'd separated himself. Dropped out of his group without a word, disappearing beneath the excitement of his friends. _Isolated._

His question was sharp, as if he meant to stab her with it. She didn't flinch, falling into equally slow step at his side and dropping her phone into one of the many pockets on her cargo jeans before hooking her thumbs on the belt loops, slouching over to peer at him from beneath the untamed curls of her bangs where they peeked out of the front of her black knit hat.

 _What yourself, little dude. I still owe you a punch in the head over the **kidnapping attempt** a couple weeks ago. Three Mexicans ran me down with a fucking truck, and I had to get a rescue from **fucking Cartman.**_

Outwardly, she stared at him, not emoting along with her thoughts. Dougie got the blank stare, pressing in on the kid as she picked at little details- like the scratches in the thick lenses of his glasses, and his still-healing lip. Not unlike her lacerations from their most recent _after hours_ tryst, he was still recovering from when Mysterion found him that night.

After a few moments of silence, he looked up at her. It was short, appearing to not want to maintain eye contact for more than a moment before hastily turning his nose towards his shoes. "You don't have to do this- I bet you're pissed at me, too. Just leave me alone; it's better this way."

 _Too? … oh, don't tell me, this is about **Kenny.**_

"Seriously, just... go away. Or hit me. Pick one. I can deal with that, but I'm not gonna take your _fake pity,_ okay? I know how this goes- I've been a loner forever. If _me being around_ is gonna ruin Karen's birthday because she wants her _stupid brother_ there, then I just _won't be there..._ it's not like she'll even notice, anyway." Dougie stopped walking, planting his feet and squaring up with Dee as if he actually expected her to fight him; right here, right now. He even indicated his face, as if suggesting a target. "If you whack me hard enough, I'll have an excuse not to show up. Go for it."

 _Exotic chocolates filled with pureed cricket shit, what the fuck are you on about kid? Sure, Kenny's fuckin' still steamed, but that's because he thinks you corrupted his sister- if you act like **you're the problem** then you're just letting him win. **Go punch him in the dick if that's how it feels to be you right now.**_

Dee halted. They'd made the outside wall of Sneakers with it's fresh dark bricks, not yet weathered by the local elements. Staring at Dougie's stance, she shrugged and leaned back on said brickwork with one leg slightly out to hold her weight, the other bent for her foot to meet the brick wall below her rump and create the most casual of poses.

Dougie blinked, frowning. The still-healing skin of his lip puckered slightly with the expression. "... you're _not_ taking his side? Kenny's your _boyfriend,_ shouldn't you be mad at me just cause he is? A-And I sent minions after you! This is the part where everyone agrees that I suck and stops hanging out with me! That's what happens right now- _what's wrong with you?!"_

 _You've been bullied a **lot,** huh? I mean, you threw in with Professor Chaos in his early attempts at ending the world, but this seems like you've gone full on **angst phase** in the life cycle of the awkward white nerd boy._

Finally, she raised an eyebrow, cocking her head slightly to the side. Then, loosing her fingers from her belt loop, she patted the section of wall next to her as an invitation for him to join her. He seemed uncertain of what to make of it, looking left and right suspiciously. His fists were clenched at his sides, his face made up into the certainty that he'd just been silently ejected out of his friend group for an event... but that certainty was a shield. A shell, delicate as an egg's, and it cracked after only a few moment's attrition.

Beneath it, he was sad. He sighed, and stepped up to turn his back to the wall and plant himself next to Dee, his hands coming forward to interlace fingers over his stomach. Thumbs idly twiddled in the gloved cradle he formed between his digits.

 _That's better. Now that you're done barking, what's **actually** up your ass? _

"I like her."

The admission was quiet, murmured more than spoken. The confession was outward, to the occasional snowflake that lazily spiraled down from the sky- she just happened to be within ear-shot.

 _Aaaaand you've just gone above my pay-grade._

Dee's reaction was instant. She reached out and smacked the kid over the head- not the punch he'd been asking for, but an open handed _thwap_ on top of his curly ginger poof of hair, eyes _narrowed_ as he jerked over to stare up at her with an amount of surprise.

"Wha- _look,_ I know it's stupid!"

 _How it's making you act is the stupid part. You like a girl, her big brother thinks you're a turd. Congratulations **,** you've graduated from kiddy-crush to **plot of a bad romcom.** You know how those always resolve? By the stupid boys **talking to each other.** I swear to fuck, the Stupid Virus keeps infecting younger and younger. _

"No, no, you see- if I _talk_ to Kenny, he's gonna start a _fight,_ and Karen will be unhappy- _on her birthday!_ Isn't it better that I just... go away for a while?"

The same hand she smacked him with rose up again, and he flinched as if she were going to whack him again. She held her palm aloft, that _very much_ being her intent... but she sighed and brought it to her face instead; pinching the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger as she screwed her eyes shut. Her other hand also appeared to gesture, holding up a single finger as a signal that he shouldn't speak until she'd digested the current piece of _idiotic bullshit he'd just spouted._

 _Where the hell is Stan when you need him?_

"It makes logical sense-"

Her arm crossed her body as the finger she'd stuck up to request _one moment please_ was physically shoved against his face to hush him. _You are_ _ **anything**_ _but logical right now, kid. Social situations are not math problems. Subtracting yourself from Karen's birthday is just gonna make her worry about you the whole time. If you_ _ **like**_ _someone, step one is_ _ **don't be a fucking moron about it.**_

She'd ignore the fact that _she was very much in the category_ of people who had recently been a moron about a crush. _Multiple_ crushes, in fact. _Possibly_ because she'd done a fair amount of mental shouting at herself at the time. How much good had it done? … well, she and Kenny _were_ together instead of just awkwardly staring at each other day in and day out.

 _Okay, maybe I'm **slightly** more qualified for this than I'd like to admit._

After a few moments, she released her nose and looked at Dougie again, withdrawing her 'shushing' hand. Dougie glared at her, clearly displeased at being quieted by way of having a random finger stuck up against his mouth.

"Fine, what would _you_ do? You like someone, but their older brother _hates_ you, _outweighs_ you, and recently _beat the hell_ out of you- and now he's gonna be there, at their birthday party, and it's supposed to be their _best day ever-_ what do _you_ do?"

 _I solve problems by punching them, kid... but I'd really rather you **don't** punch my boyfriend in the dick. Kinda the principal of the thing. Plus Kenny wants to see Karen have the best day she can as bad as you do- if you assholes just **talked...**_

She shook her head, feeling the urge to groan aloud. It was happening _again-_ was this just her calling in life? The _go-between_ in messy episodes of romance? She'd been the mediator for Craig and Tweek when they'd gone to relationship counseling, she'd been contracted by the girls to ferret out liars and cheaters, people _online_ ranted about their relationships in her comments section _all the time_ expecting advice, she'd ended up in the middle of Wendy and Stan getting back together, recently ended up as a reluctant go-between for Heidi and Eric for an _interest as distraction_ gambit... and now this. Was she wearing a _relationship councilor_ sign somewhere on her person that she wasn't aware of? Or was it just that people liked to talk out their problems to someone who literally _could not talk back?_

 _Fuck it, fine. I'll poke Kenny, get him to assure a truce or a cease-fire or whatever the fuck-_ _ **for Karen's sake.**_

* * *

Kyle wasn't sure what it was, but he felt really... _old_ walking into the not-quite-yet open pizzeria and arcade that was Sneaker's SnacShak; the place looked pretty classic for the genre. Barely inside the front door, he could spy a hall which led off to the left and into a play area with green carpet, yellow slides and blue padding on the walls for kids who got too riled up and hurled themselves about like tiny wrecking balls. The rest of the immediate area was done in checkered linoleum, patterned green and yellow on the floor looking as shiny as it ever would in its lifespan, promising many a kid with snow-covered boots would be squeaking their shoes upon it in the days to come. Cordoning the entry lobby off into a discreet little box with one of those big rough mats to wipe one's shoes on was a coatroom to the right, the wall textured as brickwork painted over in bright green and the entry to which just being an open portal without a door. Without house lights that side room only got a sliver of natural light from the glass doors the group had passed through to enter, but Kyle could glimpse rows of storage lockers that people would probably be able to rent to store things they didn't want to carry while in the restaurant proper. Immediately forward from the doors was the dining area, which expanded off to the right into a large open room that he couldn't yet get a full view of- but that didn't matter. Just standing inside the glass doors made him feel oddly nostalgic, and yet in a manner that felt _too soon._

Maybe it was because he knew he was too big for the play area, or because the idea of killing time at an arcade didn't excite him all that much anymore. A couple years ago, he might have been bouncing in place at the prospect of a place like this opening. Now? He looked around and felt a little sad. Twelve was _just a tiny bit too old_ to get super excited about kid hang-outs like this; next year he'd _be a teenager. An actual teenager._ Teenagers didn't get stoked over kiddy arcades and prize counters... and he wasn't near old enough to be the adult returning to an old childhood haunt, passing the tradition on to the next generation.

Would places like this even be around when he was grown up? It was sad to consider the answer was probably _no._

In his arms, his simulated baby began crying.

Eyes from the rest of the group turned back on him; Karen, Ike, and Tricia were up front now. It was Tricia who had pushed the door open on the pizzeria when Karen had hesitated to enter while the front windows were dark. Kenny was just behind, reassuring his sister as they came in with a hand on her shoulder whilst they all passed inside from the cloudy, windy cold of the outdoors and into the strange stillness of a quiet restaurant. Kyle had been last, and with everyone looking back at him while his doll's screaming echoed through the space there was an intense temptation to just _slip back outside_ and take care of whatever he needed to do without causing any further fuss.

 _Bad plan, the teacher said these things have temperature sensors. If I put mine down in the snow for a diaper change, that's gonna damage my grade for sure._

"Sorry." Kyle winced, looking around. Usually places like these had the way to the nearest restroom clearly marked so kids could find their way, but he didn't see an immediately apparent sign. "I think he probably needs a change- I just fed him a bit ago..."

" _Dude, just change him on the floor. The doll doesn't care."_ Kenny scoffed at Kyle's wild glances here and there, tugging down his muffler after a moment to speak without obstruction. "You're the biggest prude I know, man."

"It's supposed to be a _parenting simulation-_ and parents take their kids to the bathroom to change them!" Kyle insisted, already feeling a flush of embarrassment. "I'm just taking the project seriously!"

"Your kid isn't gonna be the last tiny dick this place ever sees." Ike smirked. "Might as well be the _first_."

" _No!"_ Kyle snapped over simulated wailing, glaring at all assembled. "I'm going to find the restrooms- they're probably somewhere in the arcade area or off the dining room. C'mon."

" _God_ you are so uptight." Ike grumbled as Kyle pushed to the head of the group, leading the way into the dining area proper. Beyond the entryway, it was now possible to see the entire room, set up with long tables and benches, as well as booths built into the walls. Like the coatroom, the brickwork of the exterior wall was mimicked on the interior and painted over- this time in bright yellow, but disappeared into shadow due to the lack of any windows to let in natural light. The room, wide and tall to accommodate colored lights scaffolded to the ceiling, disappeared into black on the far side, with only the faintest suggestions of a stage where straining eyes attempted to peer. The shining sheen of a curtain could also be detected, the reflective quality of which suggested some metallic color had been used; probably silver, considering the repeated scheme of silver, green, and yellow that Kyle had noticed throughout thus far.

No lights were on, no power humming through equipment, adding to the strange _potential energy_ of a place that was disturbingly quiet when one expected it to be animated and loud. Doubtless the stage was meant for the animatronic performers who had appeared that morning on the news; entertainment that would be central to Karen's party before everyone separated for other fun and games. Where were they? On the stage? Or in storage, since it appeared the bots were capable of free-roaming? On the technical side, he was fascinated by how all of that would _work-_ free roaming automatons? At a _children's restaurant?_ There had to be some kind of trick, or else those bots had to be monstrously expensive.

Thankfully, in all this dark, there _was_ a single light on- one that highlighted a yellow square of an open doorway on the far side of the dining room labeled _restrooms-_ no doubt a side-hall to the selection of bathrooms available to patrons.

"Oh thank God." Kyle pronounced, trotting ahead of the rest of the group. "I'll just be a second guys, sorry to hold up the show."

Crossing the dining area felt mildly unnerving. It was a wide, darkened space that the crying of his simulated baby echoed through, seeming to intensify the noise the little thing was capable of producing. Really, he _swore,_ it was getting _louder_ the more steps he took into the inky black towards the singular landmark of the lit doorway on the other side.

The house lights kicked on.

* * *

 _::The Author's Corner::_

AND NEW CHAPTER!

Not much to report this time my friends. As always, I am thankful for your readership, reviews, and support of my stories. Y'all are fantastic!

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	12. Kyle Gets a Gold Star

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Kyle Gets a Gold Star::**

The dining area became fully lit all at once, long halogen bulbs casting faintly blue light down on cheap plastic tables that had colorful covers folded on top of them with cups of confetti and stacks of glittering party hats- the perpetration for a party that just needed the labor of setting up.

The sudden light was blinding, as well as startling- Kyle threw up his free hand over his eyes with a short yelp, peering through his fingers in an effort to hurry along his adjustment while questioning the sudden activation. Motion sensors? No, he was more than a third across the room- someone had to have hit a switch somewhere.

Behind him, he heard Ike laugh while someone else gasped. "Scardy cat!" Ike jeered as a possible lead in to a vicious chanting taunt, but he was interrupted by a solid _thwap_ in short order. Someone had seen fit to correct his behavior, _probably_ Tricia. The Tucker family didn't take shit.

Kyle would have rounded to yell at whomever had whacked his little brother under normal circumstances, no matter how much of a jerk he was being, but he found himself... _preoccupied._

Invisible in the dark room, the sudden light revealed the restaurant's mascots to be standing in the main dining area, in-between the tables. They were frozen, like mannequins, in resting poses. Arms at their sides, heads forward, each one turned towards the stage with their backs to the intruding children. The nearest one to Kyle was the cat- _Scratcher_ being her perfectly generic name, though the open-backed black leather dress she was depicted as wearing was _anything but._ In fact, if the light had remained off, he might have tripped over her tail; a metal pipe sectioned in three places to allot some movement, the exterior upholstered with fabric and faux fur to give the idea of a tabby stripped cat of butterscotch coloration, and the tip of which had been in his path and at ankle height.

Seeing these things up close gave an idea of size- namely that this mascots were taller than adults. Kyle had to look _up_ at the long mane of blonde hair that identified Scratcher even more feminine beyond the dress and the hips, and a quick calculation in his head made him decide each of these robots had to be at _least_ six feet tall. More if he included the fabric animal ears.

Another quick act of math brought him to another conclusion, though this one was much less involved as it was an exercise in basic _counting._

Only three of the bots were on the show floor. Scratcher, the cat whom he'd nearly tripped over, a dog one he remembered being named Sniffer who appeared to be based off of a yellow lab, and a green hedgehog that was apparently popular with the target audience known as Spike. The ringleader, Sneaker himself, did not appear to be present.

" _Hello, children!"_

This time, everyone yelled. The sudden jovial, if muffled, voice was unexpected and came from behind. Kyle jerked around, crying baby-doll still squalling for all it was worth, to see that Sneaker had _somehow gotten between their group and the doors,_ appearing with the natural light of the outdoors backing him and making his arms-upraised greeting pose all the more dramatic. The rest of the group, much closer to the animated mascot, quickly backed off into the dining room proper, and Kyle experienced a jolt of paranoia- did this place have another exit?

 _What are you thinking? He's just an idiot in a mascot costume; he probably thought it would be funny to spook a bunch of kids._

Despite debunking himself in his head, he still glanced around for emergency exit signs.

He didn't see any.

 _That's stupid, buildings like this have to have emergency exits- it must be in an employee area, like the kitchen- or maybe at the end of the hallway for the bathroom. It's illegal not to._

"Sneaker!" Karen very nearly squealed, getting over the initial surprise of the mascot mouse's dramatic entry and flouncing up to where the man in the suit stood with his arms upraised. It _was_ a man in a suit, wasn't it? Kyle was pretty sure; the movement was all wrong for it to be mechanical, and the voice was the same as the mascot who'd been at the mall yesterday.

Not for the first time, he felt like that voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it through the muffled quality created by the mascot's head... they must have hired someone local to wear the suit rather than bring their own hype man in. New jobs in town, that was always a plus.

"Why you must be little Karen McCormick!" The mascot bent, no doubt to be on eye level with the lucky winner of the drawing.

Kyle decided all was well, well enough that he could continue on and do what he needed to do for his _squalling faux infant._ Hopefully the others would be ready to go by the time he was out of the bathroom, and he could find out what Kenny and Dee had in store for the rest of the day. It sounded like they had more _super hero_ stuff going on...

Turning back towards the bathroom, the cat mascot, Scratcher, had turned around. She faced away from the stage now, her cartoonish smile looking down at Kyle with feline fangs present in the grin. White wire whiskers protruded from her face, and she had glassy green eyes that appeared to _look at him._

Kyle couldn't help it- he hopped back. He hadn't heard the thing move, and now that he was looking at it? It was still again, just as still as the other two animatronics that were still facing the stage. She _had_ been facing away from him before... right? He was _sure_ she had; he'd nearly tripped over her tail. He _distinctly remembered having that concern,_ but now she'd somehow, silently, done and about-face.

 _Light activated maybe?_

The hair on the back of his neck still stood on end, and he swore his baby doll was crying loud and strident enough to shatter a wine glass.

Ducking his head slightly, he rushed past the cat mascot, clutching the fake baby into his chest, feeling weirdly protective.

As he passed, it stopped crying.

Kyle instantly put the breaks on, looking down at the simulated child he'd been given to care for. Did the speaker blow out? He had no idea, and a visual inspection told him _nothing._ Where a moment ago it had been screaming bloody murder, it was now silent.

A shadow fell over him from behind.

"What the-?!"

Kyle twisted, automatically moving away from the looming presence behind him and crashing directly into one of the long dining tables, the long bench taking him out at the knees. He twisted, going down quickly and landing on his back- still protecting the doll and now turned upwards to see the cat animatronic had moved again! She'd stepped up behind him, and was now standing over him, reaching a four-fingered hand down that happened to have claws- red, like she'd painted them the same way a girl would paint her nails.

They looked distressingly sharp for something that was meant to walk freely around a kid's restaurant.

" _Slow your roll there, little rock star!"_ Exclaimed the robot in a prerecorded voice that emanated from a speaker within its head, the jaw moving in pantomime of speech. _"No running outside the play area!"_

It took Kyle a second to realize the hand reaching down over him wasn't about to lay claws into him, but was rather an offer to help him up.

 _These things are strong enough to stand kids grabbing them?_

"Whoa, whoa! Scratcher, what are you doing awake?"

Another voice cried out before Kyle could make contact, every self-preservation instinct in his head telling him to scoot back on his floor until he could use the table to wrench himself upright. There was just _too much weird_ happening at this second for him to trust _anything._

He'd lived in this town too long- _he knew better._

A few seconds later, another mascot appeared in his vision. This one with five fingers, worn by a person instead of a metal endoskeleton. Sneaker, and whomever was wearing him had arrived to give him a more _human_ hand up. Kyle took it, though his nose crinkled the moment the guy got within close proximity. What was that _smell?_ He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it made him want to gag, and he instantly blew air out of his nose to try and purge it before swapping to his mouth.

It didn't help that much- what ever that reek was stuck to the back of his tongue, bitter and salty.

"Thanks." He said anyway, but Sneaker had passed him by to inspect Scratcher, pushing the animatronic back into an upright position.

"Now why are you moving around- you should be in sleep mode..." Gloved fingers worked surprisingly quickly, and after a few seconds the cat retraced her steps back to where she'd been before; standing still and facing the stage. "Little rascal." Sneaker commented before turning about again. "Sorry about that, Scratcher's always been a little _restless- frisky kitty_ if ya know what I mean."

"Sure." Kyle responded, still trying to adsorb everything that had happened in quick succession. The desire to _get the hell out of the building_ was pretty strong, and getting stronger the longer he remained within the odorous cloud that followed the Sneaker mascot around.

"Oh hey, whatcha got there? Here I thought you were carrying around an actual baby- that's one of those _parenting robots_ they hand out in health class, isn't it? Didn't know the school was still doing that." Sneaker marveled, oddly conversational for a man in a suit.

Kyle _swore_ he knew that voice. It was gonna drive him nuts.

"Yeah, captain _prude_ here was taking it to the bathroom for a diaper change." Ike piped up. Kyle glanced over his shoulder to see the rest of the group had come to him, with Ike at the lead. "Did you get over it and just change it on one of the tables?"

"Are you coming to the party tomorrow?" Sneaker quested, the energy in his voice picking up again as he did his job. "We're going to do everything we can to make sure Karen has an _extra special_ birthday!"

"That's up to Karen." Kyle dodged, taking a step back to rejoin the group, and gain some safety in numbers. He half-turned, finding Kenny and questing. "Is everything taken care of? Can we get going?"

" _Yeah dude, we just had to tell this guy the time."_ Kenny nodded, having already drawn up his hood again in preparation for heading back into the cold.

"Then let's _go."_ Kyle stressed.

"We'll see you tomorrow!" Sneaker cheered at the group of kids as they turned to leave.

Behind him, Scratcher's head turned, eyes tracking their backs until they were out the door.

* * *

Dee had remained outside with Dougie, idly scrolling on her phone as the love-struck idiot went on about _something_ she'd long lost track of. It was funny- a lot of people mistook her quiet default as her being a _good listener,_ but how much she actually absorbed was a roll of the dice.

Thankfully they hadn't been long- she'd been dangerously close to getting bored with the latest rage storm on Twitter and actually listening to the twerp. Karen was the first to emerge, bouncing in a manner that would have shamed a pogo stick, with Tricia and Ike close behind. Kenny and Kyle brought up the rear, with Kyle looking... unnerved.

"Dougie!" Karen cried upon sighting her fourth friend, dashing to him. "I was wondering where you went! Is everything alright?"

"Oh, _yeah,_ I just... my mom called. I forgot to tell her where I'd gone." Dougie excused himself. He started off weak, but quickly pulled himself together, delivering the ass-covering lie with confidence. "You're all done?"

"Yep." Tricia confirmed, nose pointed down at her phone now that the business was done. "So what now?"

"We ditch the _grandparents_ and go find something fun to do with our Saturday." Ike proclaimed, smirking back at his brother... but Kyle didn't seem to register the dig, which left Ike disappointed, stuffing his hands in his pockets and re-engaging with his own group. "Or something, whatever, ask the birthday girl."

" _TO THE PARK!"_ Karen announced, throwing her hands up in the air. She appeared ready to charge off and lead her group to victory [or at least an entertaining Saturday], but paused to look back at her brother. Her expression was almost like she was seeking permission from her big brother, cringing that she might have made too-hasty of a decision without his guidance.

Dee tensed. Just seeing Karen make that face made her want to punch Kenny- she was so used to him deciding things for her. She was expecting Kenny to give her a yes or no signal... instead, he ruffled her hair and gave her a push away from himself; a _you do you_ gesture.

Karen seemed uncertain for a second, and then broke out into a grin, sprinting out on the sidewalk and her friends following after her... including Dougie.

 _Well, that's different. Looks like he figured it out._

With that quartet beating feet away from them, that left herself, Kenny, and Kyle... and Kyle's robo baby, if one wanted to count the machine.

" _Alright, now we can get down to business."_ Kenny put his hands together, almost making Dee break her default resting face to smirk. _Almost._

"What's going one with you guys now?" Kyle asked, motioning that he wanted to walk and talk. Dee got the sense that something upsetting had happened inside, but Kyle wasn't _saying_ anything about it. "Are you following up with the crazy cat lady?"

" _Nah, Amelia got... picked up."_ Kenny responded, himself and Dee joining Kyle to become a mobile trio with Kyle in the center as they made their way down the sidewalk.

 _Mighta been the best thing to happen to her, at this point._ Dee considered glumly; the old woman had been struggling with a chronic kidney condition, something that would have killed her if it had gone untreated. While she had no idea what the Agency was going to do to her, there was at least the hope that she'd be getting some kind of care... even if it was _end-of-life, easing an elder's passing_ kind of care. Better than dying in a gutter. She and Kenny _might_ have been able to deflect the people who came to pick her up, but what would they have done? Taken her in? Neither of their families would have agreed to that, and leaving her as a Jane Doe at the hospital wasn't an option when she was suspect in possession of cats for cheesing, not to mention being on the line for all the property damage at the cabin.

Dee wasn't happy that they lost Amelia to the men in black, but neither of them were able to figure out a way to protect her that didn't involve prolonging her suffering even more. That's why Kartwright took over; presumably the CDC agent was keeping track of Amelia, now that she was back in the system.

" _The angry lady with the gun that I told you about?"_ Kenny continued. _"She got files on the facility where Dee was born. There's a project mentioned in there that was conducted at a lab that might be somewhere near South Park- and somebody tried to order parts for a machine there."_

"Wait... so, like a _real_ mad-science secret lab? Besides Dr. Mephesto's?"

" _Yeah, and they were running experiments on people with super powers."_

"How do you guys keep getting wrapped up in such _cool shit?"_ Kyle demanded, shaking his head. "I mean, I guess it's _less cool_ for you, Dee- but _secret labs, super powers, fighting the government,_ and _mutant cat mechs-_ and that was just last month!"

 _Fanboy a little harder, Kyle._ Dee shook her head, elbowing Kyle to get him back on track.

"Right, _right,_ so you're searching machine shops to see if anyone's up to anything _weird,_ and that means extra feet on the ground."

" _Exactly."_ Kenny agreed, glad that Kyle got up to speed pretty quick. _"I figured you and Stan could work as a team-"_

"Why don't you just have Dee make a Facebook post about it?" Kyle asked.

Kenny suddenly pulled up the breaks, hard. Kyle stopped too, and Dee found herself having to skid and turn on her heel to stay within the group. All eyes turned on Kyle and his suggestion, silently imploring him to explain the idea.

 _What?_

"Well, people respond to you online, right?" Kyle asked, addressing her directly. "You can get them to do or believe stuff, or make posts go viral, so what's to say you can't make a post asking local garage owners to sound off on interesting projects they've got going on? Sure, the post will get a _ton_ of useless responses, but it might be a good way to troll for leads. _Everyone's_ on Facebook, even Kenny's family- ah, no offense, Kenny."

" _None taken."_

Dee felt like she'd been punched in the head, blinking multiple times as if she were seeing stars. _Why hadn't she thought of that?_ She had been working so hard for so many years _not_ to be too overt in her online presence, with only recent years bringing her first attempts at targeted manipulations of the online public... but all those attempts had been massive successes. _Why hadn't she considered that course of action?_

She exchanged a glance with Kenny. He had wide eyes- he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it, either.

"... that should work, right?" Kyle pushed, confident in his application of logic to the situation.

 _You bet your beautiful tight ass it will._

* * *

 **::The Author's Corner::**

WELP IT'S BEEN A MONTH AND A HALF.

Sorry 'bout that.

Life has been life, I will make no apologies. I've made some progress on my original writing as well... I've even made a Tumblr for the things I draw and the occasional lore dump. I may link that in my profile here on FF.

In the meantime, enjoy Kyle _Occam's Razor-ing_ this shit.

 _ONWARDS_

 _-Buttlord_


	13. Fuck Me There's Six Of Them Now

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Fuck Me There's Six of Them Now::**

Up until today, Stan had not been aware that Dee's house had a basement. He'd always just assumed the door off the living room had been for a linen closet or something of the like, having never seen the door open and never having had reason to attempt the knob. Today, however, after waking up to texts from both Kyle and Wendy, and having the group of Kyle, Dee, and Kenny stop by to 'pick him up' for a group meeting, he became aware of Dee's basement by way of being ushered past the door and down the stairs before he could offer any argument.

Not that he had much to give; not with a baby doll in his arms that had woken him multiple times the night before, dressed in blue clothes that coded the doll male.

" _Jesus Christ,_ this place is _legit."_

Despite sleep deprivation, Stan still had the capacity to peer around the basement room he was being led into. It was kinda like a home gym, what with the bench press and weights in the far corner, the punching bag hanging in the middle of the room over a square of old carpet, and the elliptical machine aligned with the far wall and facing the other corner... but that wasn't it. There was a work bench, too, with an old laptop and a smattering of notebooks in-between childhood collectibles like Chinpokomon dolls and Pogs. Among the clutter were more utilitarian things, like duct tape and a hot glue gun, and beneath the bench was... were those Dee's old LARP weapons? It looked like some of them were broken... maybe he was fixing them. Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, he could turn to the left and spy a cupboard beneath the stairs that had a lock on it, and a space directly beneath the upper landing that appeared to have a square of burnt orange 80's carpet fit to it, as well as a couple of bean-bag chairs thrown down for seating.

To top it all off, there were white Christmas lights looped in and out of the exposed rafters, giving the room a real _kid's secret place_ kinda of vibe.

"... oh god, is this your _make-out room?"_ Stan suddenly asked, looking between Dee and Kenny as the couple passed him by, heading for the little cubby under the stairs.

Dee didn't turn back to look at him, simply flipping the bird as he went and grabbed a wheeled chair that had been scooted up to the workbench, yanking it over to add to the seating near the carpeted hidey hole beneath the upper landing. Kenny laughed, flopping back on one of the beanbag chairs like this was home-sweet-home.

" _I mean, that's not **all** we do down here." _Kenny smirked, wiggling his butt until he found his groove.

"It's been our de-facto hideout for about a month."

Heads twisted; Stan spied Kyle out of the corner of his eye also whipping about to look back at the top of the stairs, recognizing the person coming down just by her voice and her shoes.

"Wendy!" Stan cried in surprise, gripping the doll in his arms a little tighter.

He'd been an ass to the rest of the group yesterday because of how worried he was about this project reflecting badly on him. It also brought up some shitty memories of how he'd treated Wendy after the _egg incident-_ he'd not answered her text this morning. He'd almost ignored Kyle's but having the group arrive on his doorstep made _them_ hard to ignore. Even _then,_ there'd been an icy silence between him and Kyle. Stan knew he'd hold onto it until he humbled himself and apologized for going off, but there hadn't really been time for that yet this morning.

Just looking at his friend gave him an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach; something he wished he could vomit up, but it just sank deeper and deeper and made his guts twist the longer they were in the _same room_ but _not talking._

"Hey Stan." Wendy called, but she remained at the top of the stairs for an extra moment. Her voice quality changed, sounding like she'd turned back to talk to someone behind her. "Yeah, down here, c'mon."

Another set of shoes joined her on the upper landing, and the basement door shut before the descended in tandem. Wendy had arrived, with _Butters_ in tow.

"Hey guys!" Butters greeted, looking utterly _elated_ to be here. In his arms... was another baby doll- the one that he was sharing with Dee and Clyde, if Stan remembered correctly.

He noticed Wendy _didn't_ have hers- who was her lab partner? They must have had it at the moment.

" _We don't have enough places for everyone to sit."_ Kenny observed, although Dee had once again departed to improvise another chair. She'd gone to the bare-basics bench-press in the corner, removing the weighted bar to place on the floor, and picking up the mildly padded wooden bench to bring it over, adding it to the additional possible seating around the cubby hole in which Kenny had already claimed a spot.

"I can sit on the floor." Butters offered. "Me an' Izzy don't mind."

" _Izzy?"_ Kyle asked incredulously. "You _named_ it?"

"Just cause they're dolls doesn't mean ya gotta be all mean and impersonal, Kyle." Butters rebutted, arriving at the bottom of the stairs with Wendy and idly rubbing the back of the pink-clad doll in his arms. "Giving her a name and treating her nice makes the project kinda fun, like a little bit of make-believe, but grown-up style."

" _I named mine **Chuck** cause I wanted to **chuck him out a window."**_ Kenny offered from across the room, snickering.

"... I guess that's valid, too." Wendy mused, crossing over and taking the swivel chair while Dee ducked into the carpeted area, no doubt nabbing a more comfortable spot for himself. Stan followed after, getting a proper look inside to see there were a total of three beanbag chairs; one black and two white, with the one that Dee was plopping his butt into having a star drawn on it in thick black marker lines.

"Annie named ours Aiden." Stan offered, deciding the bench was good enough for him... and also wanting to take the seat closest to Wendy. Butters and Kyle were the last to file into the space, Kyle taking the black beanbag and Butters settling himself on the outdated carpet.

"Awe, that's a cool name." Wendy smiled, and suddenly Stan felt his cheeks turning very _red._

He wished he'd taken credit, but knew better than to back-track. Wendy was smarter than that.

"Scott and I settled on naming ours Mattie." She went on, shrugging slightly. "I wanted something gender-neutral, and went to the thrift store to get some different baby clothes just for fun; green, white, orange..."

 _Of course, always doing something just a little different._ "Oh, that's- that's cool." Stan stammered, inwardly wincing as he failed to deliver that line with any confidence. It almost sounded sarcastic.

Worse, it sounded like his dad pretending he knew what the fuck his mom was talking about when he didn't care.

Kyle cleared his throat. "... so, we're all here, right?"

 _Rescued from the awkward by more awkward._

"Right!" Wendy agreed, leaning forward in the chair she'd selected, which happened to make her taller than the rest of the group at the moment. "So, thanks to Kyle having a bit of a brain storm earlier, we've managed to get a _flood_ of information from local machine shops and garages about projects going on both in and around town. From the responses, we've got _three_ candidates that sound like they might fit the bill for what we're looking for- shady renters who wanted privacy, are using up a lot of juice, and paid cash to keep their names off the books."

"It's kinda scary how fast that happened." Kyle laughed, covering a bit of nervousness. "... and how many privacy laws got broken in the process."

" _That's why we're all happy Buttlord stopped working for Chaos."_ Kenny snickered.

"Wait- machine shops?" Stan quested. _"What's going on?"_

"Oh, _jeez,_ that's right." Butters flirted with cursing before filling Stan in. "There might be an abandoned secret lab somewhere near South Park, and we're trying to find the person who's tryin' to fix it!"

… _more super hero stuff. Jeez, Dee's been knee deep in this shit for like three months now. Before it was just shady secret agents, and it was only a couple times a year. The fuck happened?_ "Does this have to do with the place the cat lady was trying to find?" Stan quested.

"Exactly." Wendy confirmed. "We've reason to believe someone, possibly a government agent or a rogue individual out for themselves, is trying to repair the facility and knows where it is. Butters realized that something _big_ would need power and space, thus why we're investigating garages and shops."

"Smart _."_ Stan marveled... not that he was surprised. Lotta stuff flew over Butters' head, but he knew his shit when it came to building stuff. "So, three leads... what now?"

" _We need to investigate them in detail."_ Kenny responded, leaning forward and getting serious. Elbows sat upon wide-splayed knees and his fingers came together to mesh in front of him. _"Which means getting in after-hours, canvasing every location, and documenting as much as possible to examine in detail at base. Once we know which one is our guy, we'll know which shop to watch. If we're lucky, we might even get an ID before we go back to school on Monday."_

Stan noticed that Dee had gone tense. The guy was usually pretty loose; he let his weight fall where it would, and never really seemed _bothered_ by anything. Oh, sure, he had a resting _fuck the fuck off_ face, and Stan had learned over the years that the guy was always ready to throw down... but he usually looked like a space cadet, chill and a billion miles away with a thousand yard stare that could unnerve anyone.

Right now? The guy was leaned forward in a similar posture to Kenny, but his shoulders were tighter, hunched up higher. Minor differences exuded an energy that suggested the guy wasn't sleeping well... and probably wouldn't until this shit was put to bed.

 _I still owe him for yesterday- the way he stood up to Eric. The least I can do is help with this shit._

"This will be done most effectively in teams of two." Wendy added. "One person conducting the search, the other doing look-out. It would also be best if we hit all three in the same night, so we're done once the shops realize they've had intruders and possibly involve police presence. _Ideally,_ this would mean putting one experienced person with each inexperienced one; Kyle and Kenny, Butters and Dee, Stan and myself."

" _Tonight?"_ Stan questioned. "But what about _these_ little bundles of... _joy?"_ He asked, slightly holding up the robotic baby in his possession, which seemed to know it was being talked about and began to cry, triggering him to curse. "Oh, _fucking_ _son of a-_ now? _Really?"_ He asked, fumbling in a pocket for the molded plastic bottle that had come with the doll to 'feed' it.

"It does seem a little rushed; can't we wait until this project is over with?" Kyle asked as Stan's doll hushed, accepting the bottle as the correct action.

"Kartwright's contact _dropped out on her-_ no one knows where he went, not even the Agency." Wendy responded gravely. "Someone _knows_ that she's looking into it, which means they may know about us as well. If we wait on it, they could retaliate or _run._ And..." Her eyes shifted, peering at Dee.

There was that tension. The kid's knuckles had turned white, grasping his own hands. Stan had never seen him so wound up.

"It's not like babies cryin' is a weird noise for people to hear." Butters tried to put an optimistic spin on things. "And no one wants to look at a crying baby that isn't theirs- it makes them feel yucky."

"What about security?" Kyle pressed on to the next important question.

"I've already checked out the three locations." Wendy informed. "Only one of them uses an alarm system, and we'll give that one to _Buttlord-_ it wouldn't be the first one he's disarmed. The other two have CCTV; masks and black spray paint will do the trick in covering our tracks."

" _Afterwards is going to be the fun part."_ Kenny interjected. _"Kartwright has been secretive regarding this lab and what might be going on there. Dee doesn't trust her right now- not completely, so the rule is no sensitive information sent digitally, since she's already shown she can get into our phones remotely when she hacked mine for GPS tracking. Before you start taking pictures, turn your mobile data off, along with all connections, and turn your phone off once you're done."_

 _Jeez Kenny, your Mysterion is showing._

"So, we come back here for debriefing after?" Kyle suggested. "We've gotta wait until these places close, and then..."

"It'll be extremely late. As much as I'll want to meet up as soon as possible... well, I've told my parents I'm staying late at Bebe's house to help with something." Wendy shrugged, aware that everyone was going to have to come up with their own excuses. "I'll still expected home after that. If you can organize some kind of sleep-over somewhere, I say more power to you, but Dee's parents are a little... _uptight_ about him staying the night with certain people right now."

" _They think I'm a bad influence."_ Kenny shrugged, blunt in his statement. _"They found out I was the **boyfriend** right before the whole **cheesing** thing, and then he got a cat. Eric got blamed, but I'm still **suspect.** "_

"Shit dude, that sucks." Kyle frowned. "But that doesn't stop at least a member from each team from coming to my place. Butters, Stan, you can tell your parents we're having a sleep-over, and I'll tell my mom we're seeing a late movie."

Stan felt a little flare of hope as he finished with the bottle, lifting Aiden to his shoulder to pat his back until he made the noise that signaled a successful burp; Kyle wasn't _utterly_ ignoring him. He had to remember that just because it _felt_ like the guy hated his guts over what happened at lunch on Friday, that didn't necessarily make it _true._

It just made him feel fucking sick the longer it was allowed to linger, anxiety turning around in a black cloud that kept insisting he'd alienated his best friend by being an asshat and suggesting he was only butt-hurt about Eric's ex-girlfriend because he wanted to tap that.

No, no, he hadn't suggested. _He'd outright accused._

"Kenny?" Kyle asked, cocking his head. "Do you wanna meet up, too? We'll be part of the same team, but..."

" _Nah."_ Kenny shook his head. _"Karen's birthday is tomorrow; I wanna be home so I can surprise her in the morning."_

Kenny glanced at Dee. Dee didn't look back. His eyes were trained on a spot on the floor, jaw clenched. Kenny reached across, sliding a hand onto his boyfriend's shoulder, which caused Dee to _start_ and sit upright, jerking his head over and blinking a few times.

 _Fuck, he's a raw nerve._

" _Hey man... remember to breathe."_ Kenny suggested softly, leaving Stan to feel like he was witnessing something he should not have been; like when he and Wendy hugged for _maybe_ a little too long in the hallway and randos started clearing their throats, he felt the urge to do similar and break up the amount of _eye contact_ that was going on between those two.

Instead, he observed as Butters reached up for Dee's other shoulder, giving him a pat from his position on the floor, causing his head to whip about the other way, a few extra curls escaping from his black knit hat with the force of the turn. "It's gonna be okay." Butters assured in his usual bright voice. "We're gonna find out what's going on, and we're gonna make sure that machine can't hurt anyone ever again."

Dee stared, and blinked. Stan might have been reading too much into it, but Dee's eyes looked glassy, like he might cry.

 _Are you three like... gay... **together?**_

"We need to prepare." Wendy announced, breaking up the moment that Butters, Dee, and Kenny appeared to be having. "I've got written instructions and printed maps for everyone- let's keep this clean and get it done!"

* * *

 **::The Author's Corner::**

 _TWO CHAPTERS IN THE SAME WEEK?_ Heaven help us I think a miracle has occurred.

Thank-you to everyone who takes the time to leave feedback; it's always so special to me when y'all take the time to do so, and gives me all the warm-fuzzies that my work is still enjoyed despite the delays.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	14. Businesses are Spooky at Night

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Businesses are Spooky at Night::**

Sometimes, Kyle wondered when it was that Kenny got the hang of breaking into places- not that the Mysterion gig didn't occasionally necessitate it. Still, the casual energy with which the guy arrived with black masks for not only the both of them but _Kyle's baby doll too,_ and handed a bottle of black spray-paint to Kyle since he was the taller out of the two of them, made him wonder just _how many times_ he'd done stuff like this outside the masked persona.

Sure, there was the stuff they'd all gotten up to as little kids, but that was usually out of necessity and panic. Kenny's energy had a level of... _whatever_ going on.

The locked door which Kenny bypassed was a back door to the building, which opened up into a short and narrow hallway. Their first stop was a back-office, which had the monitors for the CCTV... and no one watching them. As suspected, this shop didn't bother with an overnight security detail, and the feeds gave them an idea of _where_ the cameras were, making blacking them out without being seen by them all the easier.

Once that was done, it was straight into the main garage without a word. Kenny just used little hand signals, opening the door up the same way he'd opened the back door and motioning Kyle to go through in the dim red light of the emergency exit sign at the end of the hall.

The _smell_ of these places was something Kyle always noticed- oil, metal, gasoline- it was the same smell that emanated from monster truck rallies and motocross events, though he hadn't take the bus into the city to see one in _forever._ Didn't matter- one whiff and the memory was right there; only he was in a pitch black and dead silent garage well past business hours instead of a packed and brightly lit stadium.

Once the door shut behind them, Kenny clicked on a flashlight, a blinding circle falling upon the open hood of an old car that had its engine pulled up and out, hanging from a mobile hoist, just a few feet away. The light somehow made the consuming blackness even worse; everything outside the circle became utterly invisible, impossible to even _intuit._

"What are we even looking for?" Kyle asked in a stage whisper- the building was _empty,_ but he couldn't bring himself to speak any louder as Kenny took the lead. He had the light, after all.

" _Donno."_ Kenny answered- he'd put on his black mask beneath his trademark parka, and pulled his hood tight over the top. The extra layer of muffling made him even harder to understand than usual- Kyle was convinced it was only years of practice that left him able to understand at all. _"That's why we're gonna take pictures of **everything-** and examine it back at base. You already kill all your data connections?" _

"Yeah." Kyle confirmed, fumbling between the spray can he was still holding, the baby doll he was cradling in the other arm, and attempting to get his phone out. Eventually he shoved the can into the chest pocket of his coat before finally retrieving his phone. "Before we got here- no wifi, no data; phone is... a _brick."_

" _A brick with a camera."_ Kenny pointed out, flashlight in one hand and his phone in the other. _"Let's get multiple angles on everything- never know when Wendy is gonna have a brainstorm."_

"How long have you guys all been working together? Doing the whole _hero_ thing?" Kyle asked, taking steps to the other side of the half-disassembled car Kenny had highlighted just past the door. It was doubtful to be important, but Kenny had just said _everything,_ so he dutifully snapped photos of it. "Like, Dee moved in a couple years ago, and I remember you having a _huge_ problem with the guy after the whole _stick of truth_ thing. And _Wendy-_ she was a _lone operator_ when we played superheroes that time, not part of either team. Like... how did you all end up... sticking with that?"

Kyle heard Kenny make a noise- it was _probably_ a nostalgic chuckle. The flashlight beam swept on to a different space, flowing over roller-base toolboxes to some kind of... _contraption_ that looked like someone was attempting to build a helicopter around a lawn chair.

This was probably the project that got the garage owner to write in to the Facebook post Dee had made. _Probably_ not what they were looking for, but cameras were aimed anyway.

" _Well there was the whole initiation thing at school..."_

"Where you tried to beat the hell out of him on his first day?" Kyle asked. Cartman had _insisted_ on it after Dee became the King while they were playing _stick of truth_ \- in his words, _'at skewl, there are no kings.'_ Giving a new kid a hard time until he found his niche was pretty standard, but Kenny had been... _particularly_ enthusiastic about teaching Dee a lesson at recess on his first day.

It had also been a total failure. Kenny had gone for the _running tackle from behind_ approach to get things started when Dee initially ignored him, and the kid had fucking _flipped Kenny over his shoulder and slammed him into the snow-_ as a bonus the move had dislodged the earbuds Dee had been listening to from the cord side, causing his phone to play what he'd been listening to that day aloud... a song called CIGARO that happened to feature the line _'my cock is much bigger than yours'_ with utterly perfect timing.

The whole thing had landed them both in Macky's office.

" _He had good reflexes."_ Kenny laughed. _"After the whole Mitch Conner thing, and I found out his powers were legit? I started keeping an eye on him. The next time the dudes in suits rolled into town, I gave him a heads up, and the two of us worked together to protect his family. Wendy got involved at the same time- once we knew what his stakes were, we all agreed we'd work together to protect him... and we all still had our costumes."_

 _If it ain't broke, why fix it, huh?_ Kyle supposed he couldn't argue with that.

"What happened to Mysterion working alone?" He asked as Kenny moved on to the next workspace. There was an aisle of empty space between areas, marked in yellow paint on the floor, and the people working in this garage seemed to keep it pretty clean without any major tripping hazards left out. It appeared this garage had a total of four spaces; the next one was a snowmobile in the middle of an overhaul.

" _Things change, man. Are you the same kid you were a few years ago? Even a couple months ago? I worked alone until I didn't."_

Kyle felt like there was more to that than Kenny was saying, a note of _defensiveness_ in his statement, but _now_ wasn't really the time to press on into _tender heart-to-heart_ territory. Besides, Kenny was right; they were all in a state of flux. He could hardly claim to be the same person he was _last year,_ much less who he'd been when Dee moved in. Growing up was a _thing,_ gradual and weird.

 _Man_ he was feeling old today.

" _That fuckin' thing hasn't cried in a while- did you drop it just to take the F and shut it up?"_

" _What?!"_ Kyle cried out much louder than he'd intended, Kenny's suggestion making him so horrified he _nearly did drop the doll_ cradled against his chest with one arm. With a second of readjustment to ensure the baby did not somehow slip from his grasp, he _glared_ at Kenny in the dark, where he sensed the other guy was smirking at him. " _No,"_ He continued at lower volume. _"_ I didn't- it... hasn't made any noise since we were at the pizzeria this morning."

He'd been worried about it, but he didn't realize just how quiet the doll had been until after dinner. At that point he was not going to _call_ Ace- he'd sent her an e-mail explaining what was happening instead, and he'd get a response when she found the time to address his concern.

 _Let's just hope she doesn't tank my grade. I know I didn't drop it- I've been doing this project the best I can._

" _Maybe that creepy animatronic scared it so hard it's robotic ticker burst... though I guess that would make battery acid leak everywhere, huh?"_

"Dude... _gross."_

* * *

" _Jeez,_ Dee, you sure that's a _normal_ one?"

Dee smirked faintly at Butters, lifting the metal gate after the security was disarmed and the alarm would no longer shriek. Wendy had supplied her with the code she'd needed ahead of time, and a time stop had nullified the magnetic trip that _should_ have gone off after the physical lock had been picked.

She wasn't quite as fast as Kenny was, but having him teach her that particular skill was already coming in handy.

 _Normal as they come, dude- farting hard enough to rip time and space isn't exactly going smell like a basket of roses._

"I'm just sayin', your family's gotta stop feeding you spicy foods, or you're gonna get ulcers an' stuff."

 _Spice wasn't the big draw tonight- dad did **chowder,** and he always goes heavy on the heavy cream- damn good shit. _She gave him a lopsided smirk while waving him beneath the heavy metal gate, following behind him as he pushed the door beyond it open and the pair of them ducked down against the front counter inside. Butters was familiar with this shop, and knew they didn't _have_ cameras... but there was always a chance that someone had stayed late.

The pair of them sat in silence, listening.

Cradled in Butters's arms, Izzy the baby doll started crying.

" _Oh, shoot-!"_

The blond boy fumbled as Dee half-way jumped out of her skin, watching him dig in his pockets for the plastic bottle that would hopefully mollify the molded plastic monster he'd been treating with such tender care today.

Further in, she heard a clatter of something being dropped- like someone else in the building was equally startled by the sudden screaming of an infant, simulated or otherwise, followed after by some muffled cursing.

 _Someone's here!_ Adrenaline was the first thing to hit her, and it made her gut tighten as she made a quick decision.

She dove away from Butters- if he was too close she'd take him with her, and she needed this to impact him as well. Drawing in from the bowels, she concentrated herself on a mere twenty seconds ago- when she'd cracked the gate and led him inside... and _let it rip._

 _Disorientation._ Short hops were weird, where she held still but watched the world around her back up. Butters went from staring at her, confused and panicked, to winding backwards in time until he was back under the gate... which she was no longer holding up for him, because she had not moved.

She winced as the normal ticking of the clock resumed, and the heavy gate obeyed the law of gravity to hit Butters in the head. The whack made him whimper before catching it with his free hand whilst his body bent over his troublesome charge of a baby doll. Looking around, he first frowned at where she'd _been_ in his experience of that moment before jerking his head over to where she actually _was-_ beyond him in already inside the doors.

She put a finger to her lips, signaling for quiet and then holding her palm out to suggest he wait where he was. After a second, he nodded his understanding, and forced a smile through the pain that was getting whacked in the head with a metal security gate.

Right on cue, Izzy started crying again. On the other side of the door, the sound was muffled and didn't carry into the space beyond the entryway. There was no clatter in the back- no alarm from the other person that was in there with them... just a _terrible_ odor that was currently trapped in the lobby as long as all the doors were shut.

Dee felt like gagging- nothing like _hotboxing_ on her own brand. _Yikes._

Still, there wasn't time for holding her nose- she ducked low and, like Kenny had been teaching her, assessed her options. There were three doors off of the lobby- one behind the counter that went into an office, one that led into a restroom, and a big set of double-doors that went into the garage itself. Bathrooms were probably a dead end, and she didn't remember the clatter from before coming from the office... and, now that she was _looking,_ there was dim light coming through the windowed doors that led into the garage space.

Creeping up, she only stood taller to peer in through those windows, squinting to see and holding her breath.

The main lights of the space weren't on- instead, bright work-lights on the floor that were directed away and into a far corner she couldn't quite spy from her current vantage point. There were other objects in the way, too- a ceiling hoist and it's industrial sized hook, standing tool boxes, metal shelving units that looked to separate work spaces- the lights were all the way at the end of the space, beyond all that and obscured by it. Watching, she couldn't see the person who was in the room, but she _could_ see their shadow thrown up against the wall by the work-lights; elongated and massive, without clear definition.

 _Unhelpful. What in the name of fairy-fucking titty twisters am I supposed to do **now?**_

Gut instinct was to rush in and take them out, and sort out the details after... but who was going to do the sorting? Butters? Usually that was _Kenny's_ job-

 _Kenny's not here, and the whole team is offline so long as the Doc is a hacking concern. Fuckin' **breathe** and figure it out yoursel- oh **fuck that is terrible,** maybe I should take it easy on the dairy... _

The directed light in the garage went off, plunging the room into the still darkness that was a place of business after hours; strange and surreal.

 _Decision time, bitchtits, what's it gonna be?_

Given a split second more to think, Dee opened the door and slipped in, carefully closing it behind her.

Listening for footsteps, she heard the distinct clack of heeled shoes on the concrete floor.

* * *

 _ **:: The Author's Corner::**_

I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

HELL-o friends and readers. As always, I am deeply sorry for the delays in the story. Life, as it does, _happened._ BUT! It is a time to _celebrate_ and doing so has gotten me rather jazzed up for these stories once more. The Tumblr I run for these fics has hit 200 followers, and as a little victory dance I began doing a twitch stream of the games, which has already spawned some fun new ideas for coming installments. I've posted the link to my Tumblr in my author profile here on FF, so if you're curious and wanna catch the next one to chat with me LIVE while we play some Stick of Truth, I encourage you to follow me on Tumblr and pop in.

I've also posted the invite link to the Discord I run for readers of this series, so if you wanna chat with others, bum around, share some memes, share theories, or otherwise, we got a space for that, too! Discord followers also get first-looks at sketches I do for the series, as well as deleted scenes.

Ah, but that's enough shameless self promotion.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	15. Kenny and Kyle are Having a Great Night

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Kenny and Kyle are Having a Great Night, BTW::**

Stan and Wendy had split up once they'd gotten in, looking to cover as much ground as fast as possible before getting the hell out. If he wasn't mistaken, Wendy had seemed _tense,_ taking on this operation with just the two of them. The cynical part of his brain immediately interpreted that as an affront to her confidence in him on their mission, and usually that voice would be the one that dominated his head-space... but a breath later and he could recognize that it probably had just as much to do with the doll in his arms that had the possibility of _going off_ at any moment.

The rush to take pictures and get out, flashlights flickering this way and that way in the dark of the large garage space which was separated somewhat by shelving units in-between each work area, meant they hadn't gotten a chance to skim over each area and prioritize them. Stan was arriving at each makeshift cubical with no idea what he'd see until he shined his beam of light in, reflecting off tools and scrap as his first tries found mundane projects... though the available tools at this particular garage seemed top-notch. Polished, clean, with posted signs all over the place to put away equipment and wear eye protection. _Professional_ was the best description for the feeling he got in this space. More-so than his dad's garage, that was for sure.

That sense actually got him to relax a bit. The smell of machine oil and metals were familiar enough, and he liked working with his hands- one of his few happy places; building stuff was tactile and always had a sense of _satisfaction_ attached.

He really should have known better.

Stepping past an obscuring partition, he turned the beam of his flashlight into the next space... and stopped dead.

 _Eyes._

It was the first thing his brain interpreted of what he was seeing; big, bulbous, glassy eyes; bright green and too big, _staring at him._

Cradled in his other arm, his doll, Aiden, started crying.

Stan swore at first, glancing down at the doll as if it had come to life in a strangely surreal moment, but the _moment_ he glanced away form the eyes he felt the hairs on the back of his neck go up with the certainty that they were still _staring_ at him.

"Stan?" Wendy's voice quested, sounding to be just a few steps down the lane. "Stan, are you alright?"

"Y- _yeah-"_ He answered, faltering and some strange instinct driving him back around the corner of the partition, swallowing hard once he no longer felt the gaze he'd highlighted with his flashlight. The _hell_ was that? He couldn't process it past the shock, not with a mechanical kid screaming in his ears. "I think I found something!" He called out, somewhat dreading to cast his light back in there...

Besides, he needed to take care of his weekend project.

"Coming."

Seconds later, Wendy arrived, her own light giving him a better view of the bottle he'd shoved into his doll's mouth to try and hush it, but that appeared not to be it. Did it need changing? _Here?_ The last thing he wanted was to get some old oil off the floor and stain the doll; that would probably get a grade reduction... or a fine from the school for damaging equipment.

 _That kind of shit is always happening to me. I don't need that today._

"What's up?" Wendy asked, glancing into the black hole that filled him with a sense of foreboding. "In there?" She asked.

"Yeah, it looked like... glass eyes." He confirmed, nodding a little. "I didn't see much before this guy got upset."

Wendy turned her light into the space without a word of question, leaving Stan's contracted pupils to their useless state as he fumbled about to undress his doll and attempt the changing procedure without putting it down. Was it crying _louder_ over time? Had it _always_ done that? Or was it just because he was spooked that the crying _seemed_ louder?

Maybe it was the high metal ceiling above them; bouncing sound around and deafening him.

"Oh _wow- that's..._ Well, I guess this is the project the owner messaged about on Facebook. That's _different."_

 _Cool as can be; must not be as scary as I thought._

Curious, with a half-undressed doll in his arms, Stan came back around the corner to add his circle of light to hers. Peering in once more, the _eyes_ were once again the first thing he caught. They were glass; huge and shiny, with painted irises that were too bright and too detailed, creating an _uncanny_ sense of being watched by something inhuman and unfeeling... but they weren't just sitting on a workbench or something. No, they were affixed at the top of a metal... skeleton? Simpler than a human model, made up of a sectioned spine, simple joints at shoulders, hips, elbows, knees, with blocky shapes for palms and feet and the skull mostly represented by a chrome jaw; made disturbing mostly by the size and number of teeth within it.

Odd, it seemed closer than when he'd first glanced it. The silver skeleton was standing in the center of the work space, independent of any sort of rack or holder... but Stan had been certain he'd seen those eyes from a position further back, where there _was_ a yellow rack that appeared to be made for the purpose of holding something like that upright.

Either way, he didn't like it. The naked bones of something that appeared to be humanoid in shape, with shining eyes that felt like they _stared_ at him-

" _Fuck_ that thing is loud." Wendy commented, glancing over to Aiden. "You need help with the little guy?"

She wasn't kidding; Stan was certain that it _had_ gotten louder since it had started crying. Still, Wendy's offer made him feel _protective,_ hefting the doll higher on his chest. " _No way,_ I got 'em." He assured. "Gotta earn my grade... right?"

 _That's all. I'm not gonna let this become the eggs again. Just trying to do my work and hopefully not disappoint my girlfriend. Totally not anxious as hell about this whole damn thing._

 _ **Goddamnit** I need to apologize to Kyle. Or punch him in the face. _

Suddenly, the doll went quiet. The silence made both of them blink, Stan lifting the kid away from his chest to stare at it, as if that would give him some kind of answer in the lacking light as to _why_ it suddenly decided to be okay.

In the process, he looked back at the naked skeleton, and instantly backed up three steps.

" _What the-!?"_

Wendy had looked too, and saw the same thing he did. It _had_ moved- right in front of them, one of its strange hands reaching out, revealing that its only other complex joints were the individual knuckles of its fingers- a five-fingered metal hand having been inches away from touching Wendy before they both looked and backed off.

With the pair of them staring at it, it froze, as if transfixed by the flashlight.

The eyes looked different to Stan now. Not brighter- but... somehow more alive. Less like a doll, more like a person.

He didn't like it any better than before.

"The... _fuck?"_ He asked, unwilling to take his eyes off of it while his heart beat in his throat. He felt as if blinking would allow it to move again.

"It's an endoskeleton; the the kind that go inside the mechanical mascots at-" Wendy gasped. "Sneaker's! The new pizzeria- the owners must have set up maintenance for their mascots here while they were still building the restaurant!" She let out a laugh, as if they were being _incredibly_ silly about a machine that was made to entertain children, simply made horrific by it's apparent nudity... but the laugh had a _nervous shake_ in it.

"Then why the hell did it move like it's _fucking possessed?"_ Stan demanded. He still wasn't going to look away from it. He was clutching Aiden to his chest again, training his flashlight on the thing.

"... maybe it's malfunctioning- there's been a performer wearing the Sneaker suit around town for the promotions. People have been commenting about how creepy it is because the eyes are missing, so they're just dark holes- I've seen it all over social media, with pictures. It's... _an effect._ Not pleasant. If the endoskeleton isn't working properly, they must have been forced to put someone in the costume instead."

"Wendy, it _moved when we looked away!_ This is _bad horror movie territory,_ and _we're the first kids to see the monster!"_

Stan had been in too many of these situations. Some kind of cliched movie trope or even entire plot getting grafted onto some bullshit chapter of his life; episodes he'd been unable to escape from despite all attempts... _usually_ shitty sports movies. This was fucking new, but he was _too aware_ of what usually happened to the smart kids who knew what was going on too soon.

"We need to get out of here _, now!"_

He wanted to look at her, to convey how certain he was of that fact, but he couldn't drag his eyes away.

"- but we haven't finished with the pictures-"

" _Fuck_ the pictures, that _thing_ is going to fucking _kill_ us the _second_ we stop staring at it."

A beat of silence. Did Wendy think he was being paranoid? Was she going to tell him he was being uptight and crazy?

Already, he was thinking to just reach out, grab her hand, and _yank her along_ as he made a break for the nearest exit. _There's no way I'm just going to leave her here-_

He swallowed as he felt her hand slip into his, voluntarily.

"Exit is your way, all the way on the end... just tell me when."

 _Relief_ would have to be expressed later. Right now, his heart was in his throat. For now, he just squeezed her palm in his.

"On three." He told her. Despite the endoskeleton having not moved for as long as they'd been staring at it, he was _sure_ he perceived some kind of... understanding in the thing. It knew they were going to run.

It was going to chase them.

"One... two..."

* * *

The garage Dee had slipped into wasn't in a state of complete darkness- there was actually skylights in the roof, no doubt to let in natural light during the day. As luck would have it, tonight had _moonlight,_ strong enough to cast silver-gray shafts into the space below and creating islands of visibility... as well as gulfs between them of distinct dark.

Her first calculation was to listen to where the steps were going. They clacked along with _purpose,_ but they weren't heading directly for the doors from whence Dee had come. Was there another entrance into the garage? She hadn't seen one from the outside, minus the emergency exit or the big bay doors that let cars in.

 _The bay doors- emergency exits have alarms on them._

Her intent was to _intercept,_ ducking between bulky objects in the dark that she didn't have the knowledge nor time to guess at, spacial awareness making her certain that she was heading the right way to get to where she'd seen the bay doors on the outside of the building. They'd been securely closed, of course, no doubt part of the alarm net she'd disabled upon breaking in. The person who was here had to know that alarm system- enough to be here after hours and not piss it off.

Or be the person it sent alerts to.

Supposition wasn't helping right now. It was just winding that spring between her shoulders again, the one that tightened the muscles around her spine and made her feel like she was going to implode, all while her pulse thudded in her ears.

All at once, she pulled to a halt- ducked low next to some kind of rolling tool chest and breathing silently through her nose while her teeth grit together. In front of her, one of the skylights gave her just enough illumination to confirm her feeling; a white, nondescript truck was parked just in front of the big bay doors built into the tall walls of the workshop. There was... _something_ in the back bed, but she couldn't immediately make heads or tails of it.

She could still hear the footsteps; getting closer, but not yet upon her.

 _Just long enough._

Her phone came out, hurriedly getting into her camera to snap a photo in the seconds she had...

The flash went off.

The steps abruptly stopped.

 _Oh fuck me._

A heart that had been thundering inside her skull had dropped into her shoes- she hadn't thought to change the automatic settings in the heat of the moment.

In the dark, the stranger chuckled. The amused sound was of a feminine voice; low, mature.

"Should have known... but you're _early, little Lyssie."_

The words were measured. Icy. Clearly enunciated and intoned as if they knew _exactly_ they effect they'd have- namely to freeze Dee's blood in her veins as she heard a stranger call her by a too-familiar pet name. Something that made her hands shake, only having barely shoved her stupid phone back into her pocket, swallowing hard as wide eyes strained against the dark.

"It's a special surprise, and you _nearly ruined it-_ but that's okay. I have a treat for you."

In the dark, there was another sound that wasn't so unfamiliar. In fact, Dee was getting just a little _too_ used to that one.

The sound of a gun hammer cocking back.

* * *

 _ **:: The Author's Corner::**_

WELP I BANGED THAT ONE OUT IN TWO HOURS

HELLO FRIENDS I LOVE YOU TOO

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	16. It's Like Red Light Green Light

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – It's Like Red Light, Green Light::**

Hands linked, breath held, Wendy couldn't stop staring at the eyes. They were _purple,_ she realized; a disturbingly bright violet that watched her and Stan as he counted aloud, _hesitating_ on the last number that would signal a mad dash for the exit.

When she'd first come over, she had felt very much like a mother investigating the monster under the bed while a child insisted it was real; Stan had seemed so _shaken_ when she arrived, and quickly jumped to a violent conclusion. It hadn't been until she had looked away and found the metal _imitation_ of a human body from inches from touching her that she realized the monster was _very real._

Her first refuge had been denial, but there wasn't any space for that. Not as the hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up and her stomach clenched.

When Stan squeezed her hand, she squeezed back. She felt like it was the last thing she'd ever do.

" _THREE!"_

Together, they turned and bolted. With Stan clutching Aiden with one arm, and his other hand in hers, his flashlight must have gotten dropped or put away- leaving hers as the only spotlight for their path, pointed ahead and jolting with every hasty step between them and the glowing red _exit_ sign above the door at the end of the lane.

Behind them, something crashed into a metal shelf. _Hard._ She heard it go over, and knock into another one, setting off a domino effect of metal clattering and a sharp smell of split solvents. Another heavy impact followed the first, on the other side of the lane, like the thing behind them had _over-corrected_ and crashed into another shelf, but with just a touch less force.

Then it was steps, hard metal steps, striking against the concrete floor in pursuit of their own footfalls.

 _Too close, it's too close-!_

" _This way!"_

Wendy shouted out at Stan, gripping their link and yanking him suddenly to one side; out of the narrow lane created by the makeshift partitions in the garage space... and just in time. The _clanging_ of steps behind them ceased for a moment, before a crash sounded _ahead_ of where they'd been.

The thing had attempted to pounce them. If they hadn't swerved out of the path...

" _C'mon!"_

Stan didn't let her think about it, striking off again... but the thing was now _between_ them an the red exit sign above the door. Wendy could see it, silhouetted in the red light when she glanced that way, its strange head a mixture of abstract shapes; a square of the jaw, circles for the eyes, and round wire frames that probably allowed for the fitting of some kind of animal ears when the endoskeleton was dressed in its costume.

Stan's grip didn't let her linger, forcing her eyes and flashlight beam forward as he dashed into another lane between spaces, perpendicular to the one they'd been traveling through before... and taking them _away_ from the exit.

Wendy didn't hear it chasing them. In fact, she heard no movement at all- like it _knew_ it was between them and where they needed to go to get out.

"Stan?"

" _I know."_ He cut her off before she could express a concern. "Just- _there!"_

She didn't know what he was talking about, but she trusted him as he kept pulling her along. Hairs on the back of her neck rose up, the eerie sense of them being _watched_ coming back as Stan, in not so many words, announced he had some kind of _plan._

They were getting close to the wall of the building. Wendy wasn't sure where he was going with this... until her flashlight beam tilted up slightly, and realized that there were _windows_ set into the wall. Small, and fairly high up, but a workbench would make a suitable enough boost to get up to one...

"You first." Stan insisted as they arrived, releasing her hand and holding it open to take her flashlight. There wasn't room for debate; he'd taken charge. "If it doesn't budge, I'll hand up the light for you to break it- _quick!"_

His last word came as they both heard it; metal feet taking curious steps forward, and the creaking of under-lubricated joints bending to turn and look at them. _Curiosity,_ prepared to return to the chase.

Wendy clambered up onto the workbench, standing upright and finding the window at her chest-height. If it slid open, the open part would be _just_ enough for her to fit through... and hopefully too small for the _thing_ they had found.

Her hands grasped the middle frame for a latch, in the dark as Stan re-directed the light away from her and back out into the workshop; maybe hoping that if he sighted the metal monster it would stop moving again. Fingers found something suspect, but it was either rusted or locked; it didn't want to slide.

Glancing back, she saw Stan _had_ sighted the monster, and it _was_ holding still- all the way at the end of the lane they'd run down to get here, staring at them with violently purple eyes.

"Any luck?" Stan asked.

"It won't move." She reported. "Just... just wait a sec."

She turned herself, one hand becoming a fist and the other gripping over the top of her knuckles, lining up her elbow with their intended point of exodus.

 _Man this is gonna fuck up my jacket if it works._

Biting her lip, expecting pain, she struck the glass with her elbow as hard as she could.

* * *

The gunshot came too quickly to have been accurately aimed, even if the flash _had_ given away Dee's position. The sharp _crack_ of the bullet leaving the chamber, a sound that impacted her ribs just as violently as it stabbed into her unprotected ears, came too fast for her to focus on a backwards hop in time- her _reflex_ for when she'd fucked something up and required a do-over. The gunshot was a sound that instigated a bodily flinch instead, driving her to duck down lower in her hiding spot and form herself into a protective ball as her attempt to work up the appropriate gas ended with a pathetic and ineffective _poot_ that was hardly powerful enough to stop the clock, much less push it backwards.

Near instantly after, one cacophonous sound instigated another; the pricing bells of shattering glass.

 _The skylight!_

Was she close enough to be in the danger zone? There wasn't time to look or calculate, instead falling back on an old reaction; one that her brain had been _screaming_ at her since finding out about the abandoned lab near South Park, _pounded in over and over_ again, like a nail into her brain that was slammed down by a hammer labeled _anxiety._

 _ **Fucking run!**_

Her reaction was one of pure _panic,_ shoes getting traction on the concrete to push her away from everything. Away from the falling glass, the white truck and it's mysterious cargo, and the stranger with a gun who knew her family's pet name for her. Blindly, knocking hard into the toolbox that had been next to her and stumbling over a cable along the way, she _fled_ like a terrified deer... possibly one with a concussion for all the random shit she kept running into. Her body bounced off a metal shelf, the edges biting into her before it was knocked over, contents hitting the ground with the terrible sharp _clacking_ of metal on concrete. Her face made hard contact with a hanging button box, no doubt for the industrial sized hoist that hung from the ceiling, which _also_ had sharp metal edges.

It didn't matter. She didn't feel pain right now. She didn't feel _anything-_ there was no _deep breathing_ or _careful steps,_ there was only the certainty that she was _alone_ with someone who knew _way too much about her,_ _ **offline as a fucking safety precaution and miles away from any help or protection.**_

There was no room in her left for anything else. Paranoid certainty that _something_ was going to _get_ her that had been left _simmering_ since the episode with the _Bitch-in-Chief_ had boiled over, and she did not intend to stop running until she was _out of this room, out of this building,_ and finally made it somewhere with _bright lights_ and _witnesses._

" _Hold still!"_

The shout over the top sounded like an enemy NPC in a game- like the bandits in Skyrim or the Raiders in Fallout who demanded the player _hold still_ or _come out of hiding,_ as if that would actually cause them to do something... only the tone was different. Rather than angry, or indignant, it was... _self-assured._ Sharp with a cold confidence that it would be listened to. It was neither a plea nor a complaint, but something altogether different.

It was a _command._ A ludicrous one, to which Dee had no intention of listening to.

Nonetheless, her body complied.

When she comprehended the language and her terrified sprint came to a sudden halt as her entire person froze in the position of the moment, she felt the visceral horror that could _only_ come with surprise; like a sucker-punch with a rusty nail held between the knuckles. Joints locked, muscles tensed and halted, and the _leap_ she'd been taking through the air as part of her flat-out sprint became a sudden crash to the hard floor.

Her face hit something that split her lip. She tasted blood.

She couldn't move. She was a toppled mannequin, without a stand, frozen mid step and obeying gravity in the worst way. Her knee was wedged up against something else, and she was certain it was going to hurt later.

If there was a later.

She could hear those heeled footfalls again; following after her in the dark, picking through the trail her crazed run had left. As the stranger approached, she heard the woman tutting.

"Always a little _bruiser,_ hmm? I guess some things never change." She mused, the voice exactly as it had been when Dee had first heard it; cleanly enunciated, coolly delivered, almost as if the person it came out of was as unfeeling at the machines in this workshop they found themselves in. The voice was that of a mature woman, without the sweetness of youth... and perhaps its particular edge being something that developed in the elder years.

There was a beat of silence, though. Maybe a breath of hesitation.

 _What the fucking hell did you do to me?!_ Was the question Dee wanted to scream at the top of her lungs... but her lips were just as frozen as the rest of her person, and that gave her a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach... which made her all the more _terrified_ of the fact that the stranger in the dark had a gun.

 _She commanded me. Like I command people- the shattering glass- was that an improvised **priming noise?**_

"We weren't supposed to meet yet... not yet, _Little Lyssie..."_ The woman continued on.

 _What is she waiting for?_ _ **Why in cock-swallowing hell is she here?!**_

"It's okay, I promise- it's all going to be okay. _I'm going to make it okay-_ but you have to wait a little longer." A few more footfalls. The woman was right next to her now. The shifting of fabric clued Dee into the stranger crouching down next to her, and she felt a hand digging into the pocket where she'd shoved her phone... the pocket she _always_ shoved her phone in when she was wearing these cargo jeans, unless she actively thought about putting it into one of the _five_ other ones.

Evidence was stacking up. It got higher as she heard the woman tsk again. "Nearly got away with a picture." She observed, revealing that she'd unlocked the phone.

 _That required a thumbprint._

"I'm afraid we can't have that, Lyssie... Wendy would go and unravel everything just a _little_ too soon, smart girl that she is, and we'd have to do this whole dance over again... I don't know how many tries I have left to get this _right."_

The phone was replaced, slipped back into her pocket just as easily as it was removed. There was a sense of violation, and it was more than laying _helpless_ on the ground- hearing Wendy's name as if the woman were just as familiar with the girl as Dee was; there was no subterfuge here, no attempt to hide it, nor need to state the obvious.

But the obvious, unstated, only presented more questions. Terrible temporal questions that seeded _doubt_ in with every other ugly feeling that made her want to _retch,_ held back only by the command to remain still.

"And now... I suppose I'll have to tell you a _story._ Something to remember instead of all this- that was your mistake with the last agent you dealt with, by the by. You made him _forget_ something, but didn't give him anything to _remember_ instead. Causes delirium, every time. Brains _hate_ it; they're gluttons for information. They try to fill in the empty spaces on their own if you don't give them anything to work with... badly."

The immobilization; Dee was fighting it. The longer she fought it, the more she felt like she had identified a specific force holding her down. A great many hands, seizing upon her bones and muscles, forcing to hold an unnatural position that left her helpless and painfully pressed into the floor without any way to take stress off of poorly padded points, like knees or the singular point of her hip that had made contact with the ground. She could think of them as individuals, and one by one she imagined working free of them, _fighting back._

At this point, she finally forced her lips and throat to make some kind of sound.

" _Fffffffffffffffff-"_

"Mm?" _Surprise,_ the first actual honest _emotion_ Dee had yet identified in the woman presiding over her. The questioning tone sounded like _permission, permission to explain, permission to answer._

Dee decided that was _exactly_ what it was, and suddenly it was like she'd thrown them off. Her body arched upwards, and an elbow was thrown out where she was _certain_ the stranger was, _screaming_ as she arrived on her knees and scrambled for her feet.

" _FUCK YOU!"_

This wasn't the irrational urge to violence she felt when faced with a time twin- no, this was _different._ Actual rage, confusion, and a _failure to compute everything she'd been given tonight._

Sadly, much like her panic earlier, that rage was blind. Her elbow didn't connect with anything, and she remained, as she had been thus far, in the pitch dark gulf between skylights.

" _Just like the doctor-_ resistant, but not immune."

Dee let out a guttural _roar,_ turning in the dark and throwing a punch in the direction the voice had come from. It didn't connect with anything but air.

She didn't hear footfalls anymore- _how?!_

The next thing she heard wasn't a voice. It was... an artificial sound, high and piercing, like-

 _Like feedback._

Her hands slapped over her ears, knowing _exactly_ what was coming next. Of course she did- _she and Wendy had invented that trick._

Her only hope was to _escape_ before any embedded commands took hold.

* * *

 _ **:: The Author's Corner::**_

It has taken us

Five and a half fics

 _ **And we finally introduce our main antagonist for the 'season'.**_

Y'all have no idea how much work I've put into the fucking time-travel shenanigans on this one.

 _All feedback is greatly appreciated. Every chapter you read represents hours of work. If you'd take a few moments and leave a comment, it makes all that work worthwhile._

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	17. Sometimes Kids Are Bad at Friendship

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Sometimes Kids are Bad at Friendship::**

Dee's ears were ringing. High pitched, endless, it was the only sound she had. Had she hit her head?

 _What happened?_

She didn't remember- she felt like she'd been hit in the face with a nine-iron, faintly aware of a split lip and dried blood on her chin. Her joints ached like she'd abused them recently, but nothing came to mind for the possible activity that might have caused the pain. She didn't know where she was, and fluttering lashes didn't do much as she opened her eyes and found herself in blurry darkness.

Slowly, the ringing faded, and muddy sounds were allowed in. The throb of her own pulse in her ears, and then... a voice; distant, but familiar.

" _Dee? Oh, jeez, c'mon buddy..."_

More blinking. Her vision didn't get any brighter, but she realized that was because she was sitting in a dark room. Her ass, back, and feet were fucking cold from being laid out on concrete, with odd metal objects underneath her body at various points. Above, she could see... a shattered skylight and a distant moon, creating the sharp black outline of an industrial sized hook affixed to a ceiling hoist.

 _Did I hit my face with that? **Fuck my life...**_

There was more than just the giant sized hook silhouetted by the moonlight. There was also a person hovering over her- she realized now he had a hand on her, trying to help her up by grasping her shoulder and pulling. Lethargically, she engaged her core to assist, eventually coming to a seated position while her brain throbbed inside her skull.

… _that's right, we were searching garages tonight to try and find out about that secret lab- a connection, maybe even the machine, but..._

It was hard to think, hard to recall, the ringing still in her ears, however faint, as if it were the whirring of an electric beater that was still whipping her brains into stiff peaks for some kind of cerebral meringue.

She rubbed her face with one hand, fingers gingerly identifying her split lip. The pain _yanked_ her in a direction, remembering _running_ from something in here... but what?

 _A truck. A stranger-_ but what happened next? She was still seeing stars.

"I heard a _gunshot_ from outside- and the glass shattering!" Butters exclaimed. "But I didn't find any blood, besides your face... do you need a hospital?"

 _I don't think so... doesn't feel like it._ She shook her head, groggy and squinting around the area. Someone else had been here, that's right; she remembered sending Butters back outside when Izzy cried; the doll was still with him, cradled in his off hand and calm now. She'd proceeded alone, entered into the garage, went for the bay door, and saw a truck and...

She slapped a hand over her mouth. She remembered now; the figure in the dark! She remembered hiding near the truck, crouched low and preparing to take a picture of the covered object in the back... but before she could snap the photo, the person had stepped into the square of moonlight around the truck.

 _It had been Doctor Kartwright._

From there, it was a blur. There must have been some kind of scuffle; it would explain a lot of the bumps and bruises she was feeling... and a crazed run through the dark to avoid getting shot would explain how she'd been dumb enough to take a gigantic metal hook to the face and bust her lip... and a gunshot followed by shattering glass; Kartwright must have fired it like that as a scare or distraction tactic.

It was all rather fuzzy, but the longer she thought about it, the more it fell into place and felt like a real memory.

The impact with the hook must have taken her down for the count and rung her bells a bit.

 _Just fucking lucky that Kartwright was more interested in escape than chasing me down and putting a bullet into the back of my head. I'm lucky to be alive. What the hell is that CDC bitch playing at?!_

"Oh boy- are you gonna be sick?" Butters quested. "Do you want me to hold back your hair?"

She shook her head 'no'- trust Butters to be the perfect gentlemen at the weirdest time. She needed to communicate with him, quick while it was all still fresh in her head. She fished out her phone, unlocking it and finding it open to her camera- just really had been _just about_ to snap a picture of the truck's cargo. It had been under a cover, but she could draw a shape of it later for Wendy... though she didn't know how much that would help.

 _What am I thinking? Wendy is smart, she can unravel anything with next to nothing. Now that we know who the enemy is, that Kartwright has been **toying** with us this whole time... we can finally make some fucking progress. _

Vengeful thoughts wondered what the group would come up with; much as she wanted to engage _immediately,_ there was no way to know which way that truck had gone, and she'd failed to get any identifying information. Going straight to the cabin, alone, even _with_ Butters would probably end _poorly,_ and there was _no way in hell_ that she was going to put him in danger again; not when he was still healing from the _last_ bit of trouble she'd gotten into when she'd run off half-cocked and too sure of herself.

For now, her thumbs had backed out of her camera and gone into her text message center; useless for the rest of the party without data or internet, but _perfect_ for typing out what happened to her so she could communicate with Butters without ill effects.

Butters would then be able to tell Kyle when they met up tonight- and she could hurry home after they scoured the back office for documents relating to recent renters... although she doubted Kartwright left behind any obvious hints. The woman had been playing them for this long, giving them _just_ enough to think they were all on the same side. Now that she'd been found out? Dee was certain she must have attempted to destroy all evidence of what she'd been doing here.

 _Probably get the hell out of town, too. That's what I'd do. Doesn't matter- we're gonna nail that bitch to a wall._

* * *

"Butters! Dee! _Man_ you guys are late... my mom isn't gonna wait up forever, we should get going. I'm already gonna get it for 'forgetting' to turn my phone back on."

Kyle had his hands stuffed into his pockets, clouds of breath billowing out into the dark as he cowered beneath the security of a streetlight. Each of their groups had gone to different places, with different travel times, but they'd all agreed to try and meet up back in the neighborhood, by the bus stop, before midnight... and it was now twenty minutes past that deadline. Knowing his mother, there was going to be a search party dispatched soon.

The presence of his stupid baby for science class didn't help; the fact that it was dead silent made him more and more worried that he'd done something to break it, as Kenny suggested... and eventually he'd gotten paranoid about the cold and improvised a child harness by unzipping his jacket slightly and slipping the doll inside, hoping that would be warm enough to appease whatever temperature sensors were in the thing... whilst also letting some of the cold get at his neck, which made his skin prickle painfully.

Finally seeing Butters and Dee approach, with Butters pulling a similar tactic to protect his doll from the cold, finally gave him a shot of relief. He'd been alone out here since Kenny had gone home to prepare for his sister's birthday.

"Sorry!' Butters shouted back, half-trotting up with both his hands clutching the doll through his shirt, ensuring it didn't bounce too much. Dee led him by a yard, smoothly jogging into the lamp light... to reveal his face had seen better days. He had a split lip and a bruised cheek, and he seemed altogether quite... _ruffled._

"Whoa, are you... okay?" Kyle asked as Butters caught up.

"You won't believe it!" Butters exclaimed, speaking where Dee wouldn't. "Dee went in by hisself, cause Izzy started crying, an' he ran into the bad guy! _It's the doctor!"_

"The doc? You mean... the reason we all stopped using our phones because Kenny was worried about the operation getting hacked? _That_ doctor?" Kyle blinked. Considering the group's suspicions about withheld information, it didn't seem _that_ crazy. It would justify Kenny's paranoia about it, as well as this operation's safety precautions. That said... "You _ran into her? Jesus Christ_ dude, how'd you get out alive?! Kenny says that lady threatened to _shoot_ Dougie during the whole _cat-napping_ incident."

Dee made a small shrug, and a gesture to his janked up face. The answer appeared to be _with some pieces missing, but otherwise alright._

"And luck raiding the garage's records?" Kyle asked, addressing the question to Butters.

"Nah... file for the whole month was missing." Butters lamented. "No contact info or _nothing._ Delivery records, too."

"Clean sweep... guess that makes sense, the doc is pretty smart." Kyle sighed, feeling somewhat charged up by getting a step closer... but also deflated that they didn't have anything _actionable._ Not unless they wanted to storm the cabin Kartwright was renting _tonight,_ and between himself, Butters, and a mildly beat up Dee... he wasn't sure that was a winning proposition. Less so with a pair of baby dolls who might start screeching at any moment. "Are we gonna go after her?" He asked, peering at Dee.

This was his war, after all. His call. If Dee wanted to go after the CDC lady, Kyle would back him up, and he knew Butters would, too.

He watched Dee's face twist in on itself, lips pressing tight before shaking his head; a resolute _no._

"Dee was knocked out for a bit, and the Doc had a truck." Butters summarized; no doubt the pair of them had considered the option of _going for it_ on their way back to town. "Either she's gone back to the cabin and is waiting for us, or she's made a run for the lab... either way, _not worth getting grounded and havin' another hoop to jump through-_ his words, not mine. He wants to regroup with everyone and figure out a plan."

"Speaking of, we need to get moving." Kyle stressed, nodding his own agreement. He was _sure_ his mom was sitting in the living room, hands on her hips, tapping her foot and _utterly_ disappointed in him for staying out so late. "My mom is probably gonna yell at us, just a heads up."

"'s okay." Butters assured, the troop moving out. Dee would be separating off at his house, but for now they were all going the same way. "If we were stayin' at my house, my dad would lock the door an' tell me to sleep in the snow, then mom would let me in, and then I'd get grounded for makin' them unlock the door in the middle of the night- 'cause robbers mighta gotten in, and it woulda been _all my-"_ Butters stopped in the horrific description of what his family felt _discipline_ was, appearing to trip over his own train of thought. "Wait a second, _where's Stan?"_

 _Ugh._

Just the mention of Stan made Kyle feel a jolt of angry energy in his chest. Okay, sure, _they had a little spat at lunch on Friday-_ where _he_ tried to be reasonable and calm his friend down, and _Stan_ threw it in his fucking face. He wasn't gonna hold it against the guy; he was under some stress and worried about his girlfriend taking this whole _child development_ project way too seriously... but then Stan didn't even _try_ to talk to him at the meeting over at Dee's house earlier that day, and then doesn't show up when his garage was closer to town?

"Sulking, probably." Kyle grumbled.

"You guys are still fighting?" Butters quested, the three of them crossing in front of the dark windows of houses on the lane. "I didn't think what happened on Friday was that bad..."

"I didn't think so either!" Kyle agreed. "But he's been all _distant_ and _weird_ and- if he's gonna be _difficult_ then _fuck him,_ y'know? We've got more important shit to deal with, and if he didn't show up I guess he didn't find anything _important,_ did he?"

Butters was quiet for a moment. Kyle didn't look to Dee to see his reaction. He was too pissed off to care.

"You wanna go see him tomorrow morning?" Butters asked.

 _Yeah, of course I do. He's my best friend, he's just being stupid._

"... whatever." Kyle scoffed.

Maybe he _was_ a little angry about the comment Stan had made, too- suggesting that he was only mad about Heidi because she dumped him. Where the hell did he even _get off on making that kind of accusation?_ Like Stan hadnever done anything _incredibly stupid_ just because Wendy was involved? Like, say, _the fucking egg incident and getting stupid jealous?_ Part of him just wanted a chance to _shout_ at the guy, tell him he was the pot calling the kettle black, just to get the ugly urge out of his body... but every time he circled around the scenario in his head, he knew Stan didn't deserve that.

They were still best friends. He'd rather have a fistfight with the guy over screaming at him.

 _I'll just stay away for a while and cool my jets. He's useless when he's like this, anyway._

* * *

 _ **:: The Author's Corner::**_

I'm very pleased that the previous chapter had the kind of impact I'd hoped for.

It makes me look forward to future reveals. These middle stories have been very difficult, contributing to the rising action of the series as a whole without completely derailing the smaller plots they exist within and through.

Answers will come in time, my friends. For now, your feedback is more appreciated than you know.

:3

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	18. Narrow Escapes in Multiple Flavors

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Narrow Escapes [Now in Multiple Flavors]::**

Wendy had wasted no time after breaking the window, unzipping her jacket to shove into the sill and protect from broken shards. The window had been high up, and forcing herself through it head first meant she'd tipped towards the snowy ground with a heavy _thud_ that was taken on her shoulder before she rolled to her back. There had been no time to register pain, though; she scrambled in the snow and turned herself back towards the opening. "Stan, c'mon!"

She saw the flashlight beam move within the building, briefly pointed at the ceiling; probably as Stan climbed up onto the table she'd just been standing on. Watching, it felt like an eternity before she saw his hand grasp the sill, covered by her likely ruined purple coat.

 _What is he waiting for?!_ She glanced left and right, as if the _thing_ that was in there might have changed tactics to come out through the emergency exit, or have friends out here for them to worry about. Looking up again, she saw the still-lit flashlight get chucked out, landing in the snow somewhere beyond her as Stan's head _finally_ appeared to come through.

"Hurry!" She urged him, opening her arms as a wordless offer to help break his fall so he wouldn't land as hard as she did... or on the broken glass. Was she bleeding? Her shoulder felt warm, but that might have been adrenaline rushing through her system. _No time._

His face twisted- he didn't like it. Of course he didn't. He was taller and heavier and probably didn't want to knock his girlfriend onto the ground... but there was no time to negotiate coming out feet first when a tiny window was all they had to work with. He forced his head through... and lost his hat in the process, the poof ball getting caught on the upper sill and black hair getting mussed as it dragged off. Then his body was in the narrow portal, both of his hands holding the edge as he pushed himself upwards and through.

"Gimmie your hand!" She shouted at him, reaching up for him. She got one palm, then the other, and _yanked_ as hard as she could so he wouldn't fall the same way she did. He began to come through, with her taking the weight of his body as his legs still anchored him above- and then there was a snag.

" _Fuck- fuck! Let go!"_

Whether Stan was yelling at _her_ or the mechanical monster was debatable, but for a split second... she saw it in the silver moonlight. Beyond Stan, in the narrow space between his body and the top of the window, staring down at her and her attempt to get him out. She saw its eyes, its too-toothy jaw, shining not in flashlight with its intense shadows, but in ethereal moonlight.

It was alive. Too alive. The purple eyes seemed to glow.

She grasped harder and dug her heels in.

" _LET GO OF HIM!"_

Resistance. How did it have him? She didn't know, but she pulled harder, tipping her body back and letting out a primal yell with the effort. Stan shouted, but she didn't pick up if he said anything- she didn't have the space in her head to process it. All she knew was that _it had him_ and she wasn't going to let it _keep him-_

All at once, gravity took over. The anchor released, there was a sound of taring fabric, and her body tipped backwards onto the ground. The impact with her back was enough to knock the wind out of her, lungs seized by the muscles around them before a second impact of his body landing atop hers made her utterly incapable of inhaling.

For a second, she thought was was going to pass out.

The weight was removed from her; he'd rolled off. Then it was hands on her shoulders, tugging, pulling, yanking, until she was up to her knees and then stumbling in a direction. Which direction? Didn't know, didn't matter, _movement._

She held her chest with one hand, tiny gasps working their way in. One of his hands rubbed her back, trying to coax her back into regular breathing, all while urging her to move, half-carrying her after she'd help pull him free.

Looking down, she saw their feet as they shambled on together. He was missing a shoe. Part of his pant leg was torn off. His exposed sock was quickly collecting snow.

" _C'mon Wendy, we gotta keep moving-!"_

She didn't argue with him, just nodding as she put more effort into bending her knees and lifting her legs. She coughed as the tight grasp of her ribs around her lungs began to ease, and she glanced his way. She didn't see the flashlight. He must have left it behind.

In fact, she didn't see anything in his hands. They were both on her; one holding her shoulder, one on her back.

" _Where's..._ where's Aiden?"

"I stuffed him in my coat; hopefully the fall didn't shake him up too much-"

 _Oof,_ yeah... not like that _mattered_ at the moment. Wendy glanced back; they'd gotten some distance from the garage by now... and it didn't appear the thing was chasing them. Maybe it was just... protecting its territory? She didn't know. It wasn't like this shop was abandoned or private; people passed through it every day. Why did it go haywire on _them?_ Despite the mortal danger they'd just escaped, she couldn't help being incredibly curious.

As her focus expanded beyond getting the hell away, she started to realize all the little ways in which she was hurt; cuts on her elbow from breaking the window, and a gash on her shoulder where she'd landed on broken glass, not to mention an area that was most _certainly_ going to bruise up from the way she'd come down from the window. She was gonna be black-and-blue for a couple weeks, and the possibility of stitches was better than the odds on the average coin-flip.

"Jeez you're messed up... what the _hell_ was that? I was gonna give you the flashlight to break the window with."

 _Really, Stan?_ She couldn't help giving him a _look_ as he expressed his concern by _reproaching_ her. She felt her brow coming down, lips twisting. "You nearly had your foot ripped off just now, and you're gonna get on _my_ case? I wanted to give you every second I could, and you _needed_ it. _You would have done the same thing for me."_

His mouth opened, like he had something to say back... but thought better of it and shut his jaw with enough force that his teeth clicked together. He was still upset, she could _feel_ that, but hopefully he'd let it go by the time they got back to town.

"Let's go to my place." He decided, focusing on more pressing issues, although he did pause to release her and unbutton his coat, reaching around his body to pull the baby doll from behind his back, held inside his coat by a hasty tucking of it into his pants. Getting it back into his arms, he was able to check it over for any apparent damage. "No one's expecting me home tonight, and we've got a first-aid kit in the garage... we can clean up."

" _Your place?"_ She quested; they were closer to her house... but he was right. He was supposed to be at Kyle's place tonight; no one was waiting up at his house. His parents would probably be asleep. Meanwhile, her parents _were_ waiting up for her. Trying to sneak into her house for supplies would be a decidedly dicier proposition. "... we can't take too long, if I'm late getting home..."

"Don't worry; wouldn't be the first time I've cleaned up some blood. At least you won't be screaming at me to stop fussing and go get you a beer." His tone was _flat,_ lacking an emotional response to something that was just _part of life_ for him. "Or insisting some _hemp oil_ will magically fix it. I'll get you fixed up before you're late enough to get grounded." Satisfied with the condition of his doll, he settled Aiden back into the crook of his arm before looking back at her. "Let's go... my foot is _freezing._ Sooner we get back, the sooner I can change shoes and meet up with the guys, and the sooner you can go home."

"Ah, _right."_ She agreed; there was no space to argue. They were expected to be places, and couldn't raise any eyebrows right now. She really doubted what they'd just encountered had _anything_ to do with Dee... but it wouldn't be the first time a weird coincidence had happened in South Park. They all needed to make it to the next morning _without getting grounded_ so they'd be able to get together and talk about what everyone found.

She had a terrible feeling that their discoveries were going to ruin Karen's special day- if the new pizzeria was somehow involved, there was no _way_ they could let that little girl and her friends get caught up in the crossfire.

 _Kenny's gonna hate that- disappointing Karen after she was so excited..._

A hand was shoved into hers, bringing her back to earth. Stan had grasped her, tugging her along as he got walking again. At first the quality of his grip had been ridged... not quite _angry..._ more _unsettled_ and _anxious,_ and those feelings were leaking out in a rough squeezing of her fingers as he all but drug her behind him.

Getting her head back together, Wendy pushed to trot up even with him, and squeezed back. Not as hard as him, not trying to crush his fingers; just to make a point.

Just to say _Hey, we made it. Together._

He glanced at her. She caught him, and offered an exhausted half-smile.

After a beat of hesitation, he returned it.

* * *

" _Hey punk, you awake?"_

The knock on Karen's door came at an early hour; when South Park was still dim with delicate dawn light and the voice at her door, Kenny's called softly as not to wake their parents... which was for the best; they'd both been _very_ drunk the night before.

It had been scary, but Kenny had come home just before it got really bad, and camped out in her room until things quieted down. Now he was back, gently rapping on the door and waiting for her to get up and remove the lump of fabric she used to keep her door from swinging open in lieu of its broken catch.

" _Just a sec."_ Was what she'd called back, excitement coming through as she remembered what day it was.

 _It's my birthday- I'm turning ten. Double digits; just like that!_

Rolling out of bed, she ended up checking her phone, briefly thumbing over a lock screen of a black background and a white skull over the top, the pop art decorated with a pink bow she'd drawn onto the image after downloading it. Once unlocked, it was time to check her messages to see if she'd missed anyone the night before. The group chat between her and her friends was, of course, bursting; jokes and goof-offs and a billion emojis that she'd catch up on... _later._ She scrolled on while reaching for her favorite sweater, seeing that she'd finally gotten a response from Henrietta at some time past midnight.

[Received, 12:16] Sounds kinda like suburban white picket fence conformist bullshit  
[Received, 12:22] But sure, I wasn't doing anything anyway.  
[Received, 12:23] I'll show up and ruin some soccer mom's day by existing in her pastel colored dream

"Henrietta's gonna come to the party!" Karen trilled, putting on much the same clothes she'd worn the day before- they were good for another day, at least.

" _Nice."_ Kenny snickered from the other side of her door. _"She give you any crap?"_

"No more than usual." Henrietta had a reputation to uphold, after-all. Karen may not have stuck with the goth crew, but she respected the kind of work it took to remain part of a clique that had such a strict identity... and the fact that Henrietta still talked with her, and defended her place as a sort of... _goth adjacent_ ally? Made Karen feel really special. The fact that Henrietta would even show her face at a _suburban bullshit_ birthday party for a ten-year-old was something Karen _knew_ the older girl wouldn't have done for many other people. It was too... _normal-_ conformist, even.

" _Good."_

Karen smiled as she finished getting dressed, trotting over to her door to unblock and open it... and finding the first of her birthday surprises.

It wasn't just Kenny on the other side of her door. _Kevin_ was there, too- and he even looked like he'd tried to clean up a little.

"Ready to get out of here?" Kenny asked, wearing a smirk. Both he and Kevin had their outwear on; boots and all, ready to ditch this house and go somewhere that sucked a little less.

"It's so early... where are we going?" Karen asked.

"This guy," Kevin reached out, flopping a hand on his younger brother's head, smirking at he spoke, "Saved up enough money for us all to go get breakfast at Denny's- a treat for the _birthday girl."_

The excited gasp that Karen let out had to be quickly contained with her hands before it became a squeal, the knitted material of her gloves muffling her face as both her brothers grinned for her reaction. Without an audible release, she began to bounce in place, layered skirt undulating with her movement.

"C'mon, ya dorks, let's get it moving." Kevin encouraged, taking point down the hallway and leaving Kenny to take the youngest McCormick by the hand.

"Are we gonna pick up Dee on the way? … is he up this early?" Karen asked- she didn't know why, but she felt like the guy _should_ have been around. Maybe because Kenny rarely went anywhere without him if he could help it, or maybe because he, Dee, and Kyle had all been conspiratorially talking to each other the day before.

Either way, she liked having the guy around- he made her brother happy.

" _Dee?"_ Kenny quested, surprised at the suggestion and shrugging. "I donno, he might be... but today is about _you,_ Birthday Girl."

"Well if today is about _me,_ then _I_ want you to bring your boyfriend." Karen stated, very _matter of fact_ as a pause was taken by the front door for her to put on her own boots. "I like him."

" _Karen!"_ Kenny cried out, eyes turning to Kevin, who looked back blankly.

"What? … Kevin knows, right?"

"Knows what?" Kevin asked, appearing to _seriously_ not get why Kenny was upset... for an additional five seconds before laughing and smacking his brother upside the head. "Oh, that you're fuckin' gay for that little curly-haired douchebag? Yeah, sure, I figured you were sucking his dick a while ago- you're always sneakin' him in and out of here through that hole in your closet... was that supposed to be some kinda secret?"

"W- _what?_ I- _Jesus dude,_ watch your fuckin' mouth in front of Karen, she doesn't need to hear that crap!"

"Ike's worse." Karen assured, shrugging it off. _Or Tricia, depending on the subject... she's practically running the yaoi appreciation club now; she knows **all** the things when it comes to gay sex. Or... at least, she acts like it. _

"I figured you were some flavor of fucked up when you started wearing dresses." Kevin smirked.

" _Hey!"_ It was her turn to protest, turning smartly to her eldest brother and punching him in the gut. "It's not messed up to express yourself! Take that back!"

They weren't even out the door, and they were fighting. Sounded like a family day. The smack had made Kevin let out a faint 'oof' noise, grasping himself while his face twisted, retaliation considered as he stood over his younger and distinctly _smaller_ siblings.

"Karen, it's okay!" Kenny attempted to soothe, reaching in to grasp his little sister by the arm before she wound up to hit Kevin again. "He's just being a jerk, _let it go."_

" _It's my birthday-_ this is the one day _he should know better!"_ She declared.

From deeper in the house, there was a hard thud, and cursing. The trio of siblings hastily shut up, recognizing the sound of their father waking up and falling out of bed. From the volume of the cursing, he was painfully hungover.

The argument ended in stalemate. "Let's go." Kevin decided with urgency, grasping the door and pushing it open for them to escape before their father stumbled out into the living room in his underpants.

* * *

 _ **::The Author's Corner::**_

AND ANOTHER CHAPTER BITES THE DUST!

I wonder why Stan didn't show up on time to meet with Kyle and the others... :3

As always, I thank everyone for their support of this story, and all your feedback. Y'all are fantastic.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	19. Everyone is Tired and Irritated

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Everyone is Tired and Irritated::**

"So... uh, you got in pretty late last night, eh sport?"

Dee felt like death warmed over whilst sitting at the table with her parents, first thing on Sunday morning... and not just because she had gotten in late, as her father noted in his _I know we talked about giving you a longer leash, but I'm too worried about you to fully respect your privacy_ voice. No, no, _right_ as she'd been separating off to go to her house and fucking _crash,_ Butters has asked her to take their doll- Izzy as he insisted on calling it. And she, unable to say _no_ when Butters asked nicely, agreed that it would suck to have _all three baby dolls_ at Kyle's place if and when Stan decided to show the fuck up.

The thing had woken her multiple times last night. As a bonus, her cat didn't appear to _like_ Izzy, and forced Dee to keep the doll protected under her covers to prevent the him from attacking it... which meant it was _always_ right next to her when it went off.

 _Exhausted_ didn't even begin to cover how she felt. She had a busted lip, a generally sore face, body aches all over- all she wanted was to _go the fuck back to sleep._

As if sensing this desire, Izzy went off again, the baby-doll cradled in her lap by her sitting cross-legged in her chair at the table, and reminding her that she would not have more than an hour's peace until such time as she returned this little monster to Clyde on Monday morning.

"Oh, Chris, let her be." Her mother chided, currently sitting at the table with her daughter while dad cooked... _something._ Smelled good, but Dee lacked the brainpower to bother with identification. For now, clumsy hands pulled Izzy up to the table top, going through the necessary motions of attempting a diaper change seeing as she was pretty sure she'd fed the stupid thing less than twenty minutes ago. "I'm sure if there was anything worth telling us, she'd say something... right sweetie?"

 _Fuck you both. Do **not** play fucking good cop, bad cop with me right now, I don't have the gnome-sucking patience. _

"... you guys can just _say_ that I made you worry." Dee pointed out flatly, too tired to even be relieved when Izzy stopped crying once she was wiped the correct way. "Don't have to do all the _song and dance_ around it."

 _That_ seemed to catch them both off guard. Mom was silent for a second, and dad chanced the gap in conversation over the sizzling of the frying pan he was currently handling.

"Well, you _did_ come home with a busted lip, kiddo." Dad noted. "That sort of thing makes us worry."

"And you've been... hiding a lot since you came home from the hospital." Mom added. "Spending a lot of time in your room."

 _Hookers spinning on an anal-probe-operated tilt-a-whirl, **that's** gonna be the flavor this morning, huh? _Dee knew this would be coming sooner or later. Her parents had been _uncertain_ around her since the whole incident that ended up with her cheesed out of her mind, a cabin exploded, and a new cat added to the family... just in time for a massive influx of _family issues_ to be fed into her life by way of grandparents, aunts, uncles, and an excess of cousins she was supposed to suddenly care about. Attempts had been made to give her space, but she knew it couldn't last.

Of course not. _Not like she fucking handled everything for this family,_ got the fucking _bitch-in-chief_ to fuck off or anything. Not like she'd taken over _protecting them_ while all her parents had wanted to do was _run and goddamn hide._

No, her parents still thought _they_ were protecting _her,_ despite the _last_ big blowout they'd had.

"I got stitches, I thought I was _supposed_ to rest- plus it's no secret that you guys don't _like_ Junior, and somebody has to keep him company."

The majority of the spitting anger was kept up in her head. She finished putting Izzy's onesie back on her, and layering back on the outwear the doll would need when she left the house today- she expected that to be _sooner_ rather than _later._

"It's not that we don't like him, sweetie." Mom contested. "We're just... concerned."

 _Deep breath, Buttlord. Don't go berserk on your parents. Keep this shit together, at least for one more day._

"I _told_ you guys, I didn't get cheesed on purpose. A whole lotta _other_ shit went down, cats were being _stolen,_ and I ended up in the middle of it while trying to help Eric with _his_ missing cat. _He_ was the one who insisted I adopt Junior when it was all over. I... didn't get much say in it."

 _Not that you guys **believe** that._

"We could always put the cat up for adoption- try to re-home him." Dad suggested; he'd arrived at the table, a large skillet in hand that, when put down, revealed he'd fried a hash of potato, bell peppers, and bacon for breakfast with egg scrambled in. It was the kind of hardy meal that Dee usually dug into with gusto, but at the moment she just stared at the pan without making a move to eat.

"It's... _not that simple."_ Dee argued, corners of her mouth digging backwards into her cheeks.

"What your father _means_ is that..." Mom hesitated a moment. "We'd like to hear what happened that night. We'd like to know more about what's going on with you... in general. We know we're not that good at _talking_ to you all the time- we've spent a lot of time just _surviving,_ going from place to place and... well, not being much of a _family."_

Dee blinked. Why did this sound like mom was reading out of a textbook of some kind? The woman was well-read, but she always had a _cadence_ when she was repeating information that didn't necessarily originate within her own head.

 _I mean, it's fucking **true,** we do suck at being a family because we've been in survival mode for forever... but that's just kinda part of who we are now, isn't it? _

"We also need to talk about the boyfriend." Dad interjected.

" _Chris."_ Mom's tone was a warning one- it sounded like she was trying to take things _one step at a time,_ without broaching too many subjects at once.

"Kenny's a good guy." Dee responded instantly, finally reaching out for the serving spoon that sat in the heavy pan her dad had set down on the table, serving herself. "You don't need to worry about him."

 _He's part of why we got to stay in this fucking town; without Mysterion, we would have been forced to move again years ago, no two-ways about it._

"I'm sure he seems great, honey, but boys like that..." Dad made a face that Dee was dimly aware of out of the corner of her eye.

"Boys like _what?!"_ Dyed-red curls from her bangs spun into her eyes as she jerked towards her father, tempted to _throw the serving spoon at him_ but instead gripping it tight enough that her knuckles turned white. "Kenny is the kindest kid in this whole fucking town, and you don't get to _shit talk him_ when you don't even _know_ what he's done for me!"

 _Silence. Sublime, shocked silence._

Her mouth had gone running ahead of her, and conflict arose between the part of her that was so _viscerally delighted_ in getting angry and the part that was _crippled with guilt_ for saying something that could not be taken back. She could feel both of her parents staring at her, and it made her underarms sweat like she'd just laid out a ten-minute-mile on the elliptical with the resistance turned up to fifteen, her face flaring up with flush whilst she gritted her jaw tight to prevent any further vile spewing.

 _Fuck this, I'm out._

Quick hands released the serving spoon and instead snatched out at the table for a key item she needed before she left- her 'medicine'- a pair of white pills that used to be ground up into her meals when she was a few years younger. Now she just took them, slamming down the glass of OJ that had been set at her place at the table before making her exit. Her chair screeched against the tiled floor of the kitchen as she unfolded herself and kicked back. On her feet, she rushed for the open doorway to get to the living room and, ultimately, outside.

" _Lyssie, you sit down right now!"_

 _-Lyssie-_

Was it exhaustion? Or maybe the shred of a dream? Dee had her arms curled around Izzy, most of the way to making an exit from the kitchen. She'd already been dressed to head out- all she needed was her big coat and boots, and those were by the door- but her father shouting that nick-name at her, trying to _order her_ back to her chair like he had any kind of authority over her time-traveling ass... something about it felt like a forgotten memory suddenly slapping her on the back with an almighty _smack_ of the most painful sort.

 _Lyssie- **little Lyssie-** who called me that? Last night? Butters, maybe? No, no, Butters doesn't know my name, and Kenny wouldn't have told him..._

 _It was a woman. I heard her say it- **little Lyssie-** Kartwright? _

She'd stopped moving, halted in the doorway, but if her dad was ranting? She wasn't hearing him. Something was... _wrong._

 _Not Kartwright. She doesn't know my name either. Not unless she stole it... and the voice wasn't hers..._

"... Alyssa, are you listening to your father? You can _look_ at him, at least."

Mom's voice, breaking into her train of thought, causing her to crash back to earth with all the grace of an meteorite. She shocked, inhaling sharply and half-turning to find her father on his feet, having approached her with a twisted and angry expression on his face, reminding her that he expected her attention even if she had monumentally more important things to worry about right now.

Across the living room, the doorbell rang.

"... don't you _dare."_

 _Too late, pops. I'm fucking out of here._

With a fresh course of her meds in her system, pulling her usual tricks with time was a little easier than usual. Stopping time long enough to get her boots and coat on? _Piss easy._ There wasn't time for her father to reach out and try to keep her from leaving; by the time he'd swiped out for her? She'd already stopped the clock, obtained her outwear, and bolted for the door with the laces of her boots trailing behind her. Whether he gave chase or not, she didn't particularly _care_ at that second, throwing the door open to find a very _surprised_ Kenny on the other side... along with both Kevin and Karen. The trio of siblings stared with wide eyes as she crossed the threshold and slammed her own front door shut behind her while her free arm still held tiny Izzy to her chest.

" _You get back here **right now** -!"_

Her father shouting from the other side seemed to be all the motivation the McCormick siblings needed to assist in the escape, Kenny and Kevin grasping her by the elbows to hurry away from the doorstep as a group, with Karen picking up the rear.

* * *

"C'mon Kyle, you'll feel better for tryin', even if Stan is bein' a big 'ol jerk."

Usually, Kyle didn't need any prodding to stop by Stan's house. Being neighbors their entire lives, their moms treated one-another like family, and seeing the guy as a brother who just lived in a different house was not a stretch of the imagination by any means.

Last night, he'd made a point to himself to not even look at the place as he and Butters had walked to his place and, predictably, into a lecture from his mother about the dangers of staying out too late and falling out of contact, which ended on the age-old chestnut of _you know I only get mad because I love you so much, right?_ Just another flavor of _it's for your own good_ after giving him the riot act in front of another guy... His only relief was that the guy was _Butters,_ and Butters wasn't the sort to spread parental shit around.

By the time morning came around, they still hadn't heard from Stan or Wendy.

That was the point at which Kyle got worried. Stan sometimes let stupid shit get in the way of more important stuff... but Wendy? No, Wendy got shit done, no matter what the hell was going on. Even if Stan was being dumb, Wendy would have stopped by in the morning... and she didn't.

Between that sense of dread, and much of Butter's pushing and persuading, he was finally on the Marsh's doorstep... and hesitating to knock.

"What's the point?" He questioned, taking any excuse to turn away from the door and looking back at Butters. "If I find out he ditched us _and_ had good information, I'm just gonna wanna slug him!"

"Then I'll hold your baby for you, an' you can slug 'em." Butters informed him, holding his empty hands out to emphasize the offer. He'd managed to get Dee to take their baby doll last night, but Kyle still had his for the rest of the day... although it _still_ hadn't cried since yesterday.

"Why are you so _determined_ to make me talk to him?" Kyle demanded.

"Cause he's your best buddy, and _not talkin'_ isn't the solution to _anything."_ Butters responded with certainty. "Avoiding people you care about just makes them think you don't care- it doesn't communicate that you're _mad,_ it tells 'em that you think _they're wrong_ and _they should do the hard thing_ and come to you- and that's _you_ bein' a jerk."

… _where does he learn this stuff?_

Marveling at Butter's social understanding was yet another way to stall, and it appeared the other boy had decided enough was enough. He stepped up next to Kyle and rapped his knuckles against the door, insistently knocking before Kyle could stop him.

"Butters- _Butters what the hell?!"_

"Too late, now, pal." Butters stepped back, hands going into his pockets. " _Trust me,_ this'll be better."

Kyle swallowed, half tempted to _flee,_ but... well, he could already hear steps coming to the door from within. The point at which he'd abandon had come and gone when Butters had forced the issue and knocked for him, and now there was nothing to do but wait until the portal swung open and revealed... Randy, Stan's dad, looking rightfully irritated and barely dressed.

 _Oh shit, it's a Sunday. They're probably on their way out to church._

"A-Ah, Good morning, Mister Marsh." Kyle greeted, faltering slightly as he attempted a polite smile. "Can I- does Stan have a second to talk?"

" _Stan?"_ Randy's voice was _testy_ at best, the man huffing out his son's name. "Wasn't he stayin' the night at your house?"

Kyle blinked. The seed of dread he'd felt earlier was taking root, and he was horrified to know the sort of shape it might bloom into.

"He... he never showed up." Kyle explained, swallowing hard. "We thought he ditched us and just went home."

"Well he's not here... and he hasn't called... _unless..."_ Randy's head twisted around, shouting back into the house. " _Sharon?! Has Stan called home since last night?!"_

"Jesus, Randy, I'm _right here."_ Mrs. Marsh appeared in the doorway a moment later, supplanting her husband. Unlike him, she was already fully dressed in her Sunday best, and managing her irritation with the early morning far better than him. "Go put your good shirt on- go on- _go!"_ She shooed him, causing Randy to wander off with an under-his-breath _gosh, woman_ before she fully took control of things by the door. "Sorry boys, I haven't heard from Stan since he went out to meet up with Wendy last night... is something wrong?"

"We..." Kyle hesitated. He really didn't wanna get Stan's parents involved- they were guys. Guys didn't go running to each other's parents- that was just... _uncool._

 _But he's missing. He didn't come home. He didn't come to my house. We have an unknown person of interest somewhere near South Park who might be dangerous._

"Well you see, Mrs. Marsh, Kyle and Stan had a bit of a tiff at lunch the other day and-"

" _Butters!"_ Kyle half-rounded on the other boy.

"Oh, you're _fighting?"_ Sharon put a hand to her mouth in a perfect _oh my word_ pose. "I didn't know... I'm sorry to hear that, Kyle, but I don't think you want me butting my nose into that... I'll ask around with the other moms at church, see if he went to Eric or Kenny's place instead, okay? I'll call your mom if I hear anything."

"... thanks Mrs. Marsh." Kyle grimaced, nodding a little as the door was shut.

There was a beat of silence. Kyle felt like he wanted to hit something more than ever, but there was nowhere for it to go- not unless he wanted to punch Butters... which, honestly, he _did,_ but he didn't see how that would _help_ anything right now.

 _Okay, fine, Stan didn't come home last night... but if something had gone really wrong, Wendy would have come and told us... unless something happened to **her,** too._

"Hey Butters."

"Yeah?"

" _I don't feel better."_

* * *

 _ **:: The Author's Corner::**_

Gotta slide a little drama into the proceedings as we wind up for the big finish.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	20. Where The Fuck DID Stan Go?

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – So Where the Fuck Did Stan Go?::**

Stan's night had gone poorly.

Beyond poorly, he realized; bleary eyed and sleep deprived, and possibly trapped in underground hallways he hadn't known _existed_ in his entire time of attending South Park Elementary, despite being below that very place.

This is what he got for trying to do the right thing. For trying to clean up after himself.

 _Yeah, like the universe has ever rewarded good goddamn behavior in my lifetime._

He should have just gone to Kyle's house. He should have just said _fuck it,_ sucked it up, gone to Kyle's house, and apologized... but he didn't. Taking care of Wendy's wounds from the window had made him late for the rendezvous- no one had been at the meeting place, and even if he _did_ do the stupid thing and turn his phone data back on, there was little chance anyone else would have done the same and allowed him to get in contact... and there was _no way_ he was calling the Broflovski landline _past midnight._

In hindsight, what he did instead was probably dumber and even more dangerous than making Mrs. Broflovski angry.

 _He'd decided to go back to the garage._

His rationalization was that he and Wendy had left _evidence_ behind at the scene. Wendy had left her coat in that broken window, and he'd lost a shoe; forcing a change in footwear during his brief stop at home to kick off the now lonely remaining boot and put on a set of sneakers that quickly soaked through in the snow as he trudged back to the scene of the horror. On the walk, feeling the icy cold soak into his socks, shoving one hand deeply into the pocket of his coat while the other curled around the _robotic baby_ that was still in his possession tonight, he came up with more reasons that this was the thing to do.

That endoskeleton had been _alive,_ and ready to take a piece out of _someone-_ what if it got out?

He actually didn't have an answer to that question at the time... but he couldn't just _not do anything_ after what they had escaped from. If he wasn't going to alert the others, he needed to take care of it himself. He wasn't gonna sit on his _goddamn hands_ while some kind of mechanical terror ripped through South Park in the night... and it wasn't like he could call the _police_ either. Even _this_ one would sound a little too odd on the 911 hot-line... and would involve admitting that he'd broken into the warehouse in the first place.

Knowing this town, he'd probably end up spending the night in a cell before the police actually investigated the mechanical monster with the violet eyes that had chased them down so relentlessly.

He should have just gone home. Even that would have been better. _Doing nothing would have been better._

But he didn't. He went back, and the garage had been disturbingly still. He could still see the prints in the snow where he and Wendy had made their desperate escape, drags and deep tracks where they'd come out of the window, and the footprints that led away without looking back. He could still see her jacket in said window; ripped and stuck on broken shards of glass still wedged into the frame.

Stan realized he had no way to reach the jacket from the outside; the window was just _ever so slightly_ out of his reach on this side. He still couldn't believe he'd bailed out through that little portal _head first,_ but adrenaline made a dude to crazy shit.

Just being back here made his heart kick up a gear, swallowing as he stepped around to where the emergency exit door was- if the endoskeleton had _left,_ that was probably the door it would have used.

Stan had hoped he would find nothing. Honestly, he had hoped more than that- that he'd be able to go into the building and find nothing; not a shred of evidence that the thing had even been real. He would have preferred to have been _delusional_ than accept the memories seared into his skull.

Instead, he found strange tracks in the snow. Blocky, with sharp edges. _Mechanical._

 _It's out._ He had thought, jaw clenching. _It's loose._

The idea of going home became impossible. He didn't even complete his original objective of retrieving the lost items from the garage.

He followed the tracks. Followed them back into town, up sidewalks, across streets. The tracks never went close to houses, or beneath street lamps, like the thing _knew_ to keep to the shadows and stay unseen. The path was winding, long and weird, but eventually found an unexpected destination.

 _South Park Elementary School._

Looking back at it from his present moment, that really should have been the point that he put his hands up. The point at which he _**really should**_ have said _fuck this shit, I'm out._

Instead, he followed the prints up to the front door of the school, where they then veered off to follow the wall of the building around the right side, passing through a gate in a brick wall and arriving at the service entrance that led directly into the cafeteria kitchen. Here, too, the tracks went up to the door, and then doubled back, continuing on towards the rear of the building.

Stan realized it was running into locked doors. _It was trying to get inside._

The tracks continued on, further towards the back of the school; past the industrial dumpster that sat outside the loading area for the kitchen, and towards the playground.

A _hole_ had been ripped in the chain-link fence that separated the service area from the playground.

Ahead was a sharp corner that he'd have to turn to get to the back of the school, beyond which there was a wide gulf between him and the outbuildings that the school had added on as the population of kids in town had increased. That was at least twenty feet of wide open snow with no cover; no place to hide. Once he came around that corner, he would be in the open.

Around that corner, he heard a window break.

The noise of shattering glass nearly made him jump out of his skin, inhaling sharply and holding his breath, refusing to cross the visual threshold. He hesitated just _before_ the corner, straining his ears to listen as... yes, _yes,_ he heard footsteps in the snow.

There was another _crunch,_ leftovers in the window frame getting snapped off as something passed through, and then a heavy _crash_ that was dulled by the intervening wall; something heavy had just hefted its way through a window and into the school.

 _Why the school? Why the hell did this thing come here?_

He waited a few seconds more, pulse pounding in his neck. He couldn't hear anything else. He couldn't guess if it had just stopped once it got inside, or if it had moved on... or if it was _waiting_ for him to attempt to follow. All were possible, but a desperate _need to know what the hell was going on_ was beginning to overrule his previously intense self preservation instinct.

As Craig had once observed, that was _exactly_ what got him and his group into trouble most days.

He stepped out around the corner of the building.

The footprints in the snow went all the way to the rear doors of the school; the ones kids used to come out to recess. Those doors were also still securely locked, and the prints came back to the window between the corner and the doors... a window which was now shattered, shards of glass blending in with the snow and only identifiable by their smoother shine in the moonlight. The window was a little higher off the ground from the outdoor side; even with Stan's chest, and marks in the snow suggested that the thing he was following had jumped rather than climbed; a few prints drawing back before deeper ones came back toward, disappearing at an appropriate distance.

Again, hindsight was the function by which he'd kick himself later. This would have been the perfect point to bail; to call the police and leave an anonymous tip that someone had just broken into the school, and fucked off home.

Instead, he approached the window, shed his jacket in the same way Wendy had earlier that night, cast it over any sharp leftovers that might have been in the window sill, and hefted himself up between one hand and his wet sneakers against the wall until he could throw himself over the edge, turning in the air to land roughly on his back with Aiden clutched safely to his chest.

He felt little beads of glass against his back when he landed, but no pain. He'd lucked out, and drug himself upright to peer up and down the hall he'd just gotten himself into.

Lockers lined both sides of the halls, and all the lights were off. Windows let in moonlight, but hallways disappeared into _pitch_ once the went deeper into the building.

Indoors, there was obviously no fresh prints in snow-cover to follow, but droplets of water were scattered on the floor where snow must have fallen off of the _thing_ and melted in the warmth of the heated building... and he could hear a single set of steps, further up the hall; _hard metal against vinyl flooring._ The direction it went was, _of course,_ into the pitch dark of the interior.

Somewhere ahead, there was a hard thud that echoed back to him between the locker-lined walls. And then another, at the same point but louder. _With more force._

There was a screech of metal-on-metal, and a harsh _snap_ of something being broken. Something was flung away, _hard,_ thrown to the side... and then the steps moved on. Further away.

Stan followed, jaw clenched and finally reaching for his phone... but not to call anyone. No, he activated the flashlight as the steps faded out of earshot, the faintly blue LED sweeping over the area ahead of him as he stuck close to the wall. The drops of water tapered off until the trail ended. At first he worried he had nothing else to work with, but only a few feet beyond that he found out what had made all the noise. There was a heavy staff-only door that had been _ripped off of its hinges_ and _thrown_ to the other side of the hallway, leaving a gaping hole of a doorway with flecks of broken concrete where the door has previously been mounted.

 _Why didn't it just do that with the locked front door? ... and how strong is this thing?_

Beyond, there was a metal set of stairs that descended into the basement of the school, where all the utility stuff was, and the boiler room. Stan had been down there, once or twice.

There was another _wrenching_ noise that emitted from beyond the doorway. The thing was bypassing another locked door; ripping through it to get somewhere beneath the school.

Stan followed, descending into the dark. He passed by the gated off areas that protected electrical equipment, and beyond pipes that fed water up into the building above. He passed by the door to the boiler room, and peered _upwards_ in hopes that the mechanical monster he was following had simply gone up the stairs on the other end of the space to return to ground level... but that door was intact. No such luck.

Instead, a different door had been ripped off its hinges, directly in front of him.

The crumpled barrier had a plate affixed to it, denoting what was beyond it. _STORAGE,_ it read in block letters, although Stan barely adsorbed that information in the split second he used to flit his little light over it, quickly turning it back towards the dark chasm that now sat open before him. Why had he never noticed this area before? Then again, it was a _school storage area-_ not like it was a place him or the others ever needed to go in the past.

Well, maybe Cartman for one of his schemes, but not the rest of them.

As far as he could illuminate, it appeared there was a long hallway on the other side of the doorway; narrow with other doors leading off of it. Pointing his light at the end, he could just barely intuit that the passage hooked a hard right rather than dead-ending... but he didn't see nor hear the endoskeleton he'd been following this whole way.

He stepped past the doorway.

He should have looked _up._

How it had affixed itself there, he had no idea, but he'd only been two steps in when it dropped down _behind him,_ effectively cutting off any escape. He heard it make contact with the floor, and turned around hard to stare back at it, shining his flashlight in its... _face?_

Again, he found himself in a stare-down with those violently purple eyes... but something had changed. The spark in them, the one that had unnerved him back at the garage, made him panic and assume certain death was just around the corner, didn't seem as vicious now.

He'd drawn in air to scream, but now he held it. Bit down on it, waiting for _it_ to make the next move. At first it was like the garage all over again; under the light it _didn't_ move, appearing to have been caught in a freeze frame... and then, when Stan didn't cry out or run, it began to reach out. One mechanical hand, in a single too-smooth motion, reached out and alighted not on him... but Aiden.

The machine gripped the robot baby, and Stan didn't fight as it picked him up by the head, lifting it while the other hand came to support the body. In both hands, the doll was brought to eye level with the metal skeleton, and stared on with something Stan could only interpret as _wonder..._ or maybe _horror._

The metal jaw of the thing moved, like it meant to speak, but nothing understandable came out; just an electronic hum that warbled a little on the ear.

 _The baby hasn't made any noise since I was in the garage. Was it... did it wake up because of...?_

"Was that... _you?"_

It looked at him, directly. A sudden snap of the eyes, making his spine stiffen. Then, slowly, the eyes drifted back to the doll.

The machine kept it, palming it in one monstrously large mechanical hand and tucking it against the gleaming spinal column that made up its mid-body. The other pointed on- indicating a desire to go deeper.

Worse, it wanted Stan to lead the way.

"Where are we going?" He asked. "What are you trying to find down here?

Another noise- like that warbling hum from before, but _louder,_ with an edge _-_ similar to a dog's growl run through the auto-tuner for a painful C-sharp. It wasn't a request.

* * *

" _Hey man, are you alright?"_

Arriving just in time to give Alyssa a last-minute rescue had not been something Kenny expected when he caved into Karen's demands to bring his 'boyfriend' along for her birthday breakfast. Honestly, he figured she'd be passed the hell out, and knocking on her door this early would garner nothing more than an awkward conversation with her parents. Instead... well, he and his brother had all but _carried_ her over the snow as she tucked her knees up into her chest to keep unlaced boots from falling off or taking on snow, trotting down the sidewalk before her father could emerge with his own shoes on and give chase.

They didn't stop until they made the bus-stop, letting Alyssa down on the bench so she could secure her effects- a process further complicated by the presence of her baby doll needing to be kept off of any surface that might be too cold for the sensors and tank her grade on the project.

At the question of her condition, forever muffled by Kenny's scarf and hood secured over his face against the cold, she didn't respond. She didn't even look up. Izzy was carefully balanced in the crook of her arm as purple gloved hands viciously yanked at her laces until her big ugly boots were secured and her pant legs pulled back down over them. The final step was to flip her big fuzzy hood up over the top of her head, covering up her knit hat and letting only a few curly red strands of hair peek out, clinging to the top of the lining with static electricity.

"He seemed pissed. And here I thought your parents were fuckin' pushovers." Kevin sounded _almost_ impressed. Kenny reflexively wanted to sucker punch him in the kidney, but kept his hands to himself. "The fuck you do to get that kind of shit on a Sunday? Bust the liquor cabinet?"

She rolled her eyes as her head came back up, giving Kevin a _look_ with green eyes that Kenny translated pretty easily to himself. _Fuck off, you don't know my life._

It was right about _now_ that Kenny realized something- while Lyssie might not have busted a liquor cabinet, she'd certainly _busted her face-_ it looked like someone had beaten her with a metal shovel or something similar. Her lip was split and swollen, scabbed over from a night of healing but still looking damn painful, and she was otherwise bruised in the area. _"Holy_ _ **shit**_ _dude, what_ _ **happened**_ _last night?"_

They'd all been out of contact. Their phones weren't safe as long as Kartwright was still a risk for possible hacking. He never realized how big a deal that could be until he'd gotten used to having a smart phone to make contact as necessary... even if it meant doing some truly disgusting things for the necessary money to obtain a phone and a plan to run it on. It felt a little bit like the _old_ days, back when he and the guys couldn't just find each other at the drop of a hat via Facebook or Twitter. Sometimes nice, other times? Less so.

Then again, _Alyssa_ had never operated that way by choice. All of that had been before she moved to town.

 _Being internet disabled has to be scary for her- I didn't think about that at all._

"Did your _parents_ do that?"

Karen's voice- tiny and sympathetic. She stepped up between himself and Kevin, reaching out to Alyssa and gingerly touching her face with her pink-and-black gloved hands. The gesture took Alyssa aback, eyes going wide and her head drawing back as Karen entered her _bubble,_ that buffer zone of space she liked to keep between herself and others, save for a very select group of individuals. Kenny half reached out to yank his sister back, since Alyssa's response to intruders was usually _punching,_ but the pair of them shared a long moment of silent eye contact instead; Karen's big blues against Alyssa's befuddled greens.

Finally, Alyssa blinked, and shook her head _no-_ giving a direct response in her quiet way.

 _Oh thank God. I **really** didn't need to put on the Mysterion costume today to yell at your parents for being child-beating assholes... I figure it only worked on my parents because they're **fucking tweaked out morons.**_

"Then what t' fuck did you _do_ to yourself, short stuff?" Kevin quested, sounding at least mildly curious... or at least like he was trying to judge how much street cred to give her.

Alyssa looked between the assembled siblings, lips pressed together as her brow knit down. Kenny understood that one pretty quickly, too- _too complex to explain without words._

" _Don't worry about it."_ He quickly cut in, reaching out for her shoulder as Karen withdrew herself. _"We're going to Denny's for breakfast- my treat for Karen's birthday. She **really** wanted you to come with... I'm sure we can find you a napkin or something to write on when we get there."_

"I got something- wait, wait, _here!"_

Karen had gone ruffling in her many-layered skirt... did one of those skirts have pockets? Kenny didn't remember any of them _coming_ like that, but Karen had shown herself to be pretty smart with a needle and thread, modifying her own clothes. The upper-most skirt lifted, and the next one down appeared to have been modified for carrying... and, surprise surprise, his artist of a little sister had a pen in one pouch, and a small notepad in the other.

" _Ta-da!"_ Karen all but sang out, thrusting both at Alyssa. "Now you can tell us what happened, and we can stop guessing and go get breakfast! … just don't lose the pen, please- it's one of my good ones."

* * *

 _ **:: The Author's Corner::**_

I generally don't like to hop back and forth in the timeline, but that is a drawback with _seat of pants writing-_ sometimes you gotta go back and cover where the heckie someone disappeared to XD And besides, for all the times I've stressed that _this is my just for funsies project_ and _it ain't gonna be perfect,_ the person who seems to have missed the point of that the most appears to be... uh... _me. XD_

So here we are! Accepting that I goofed the flow of this story a little bit and MOVIN THE HECK ON!

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	21. Let's Have Some Revelations

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Let's Have Some Revelations With Our Rising Action::**

If there was one thing Butters had learned about himself in recent, more self-aware years, it was that he could maintain an optimistic attitude if it meant countering someone else's pessimistic one- even if remaining optimistic was not warranted by any observable reality. In fact, he'd realized, it was nearly reflexive; he couldn't _help_ being hopeful if someone near him was hopeless; as if he were placed on this earth to be a natural counter-balance to all the ugliness that weighed on the minds of his friends.

Sometimes that job got a little daunting, but he did his best.

With no immediate news on Stan, Kyle decided that they would go to Wendy's house to see if she was home- she and Stan had been together the night before. Her house was the logical place to start.

The whole way, Kyle's jaw was clenched. Butters could feel the energy coming off of him in waves; tense and anxious, hurrying them along as they followed sidewalks and barely waited for cars carrying families to Mass before crossing the street. His posture was ridged, and he gripped the baby doll he had been assigned from science class so hard that Butters legitimately worried that its little plastic head might just pop off.

Arriving at the Testaburger home, the first thing that could be noted was recent tire-tracks in the thin layer of snow on the driveway- suggesting that Wendy's family had left for church. It was a detail that Kyle noticed as well, briefly stopping in his stalking walk up towards the steps to stare as it registered with him.

Internally, Butters felt himself clench. It was likely that Wendy was with her family; stuck at church for the next two hours of this seemingly tranquil Sunday morning... and that meant they'd not have access to her or any information she had until after.

"... maybe she didn't go with them." Butters posited, although he had no idea _how_ a kid got out of going to church... outside of spending the night with someone who _didn't_ go to church, as he had.

"... maybe." Kyle agreed under his breath, hurrying on once more. He didn't even bother keeping it at a walk, pushing up to a jog and arriving at the front door to knock insistently with one hand as the other cradled around his baby doll and held it against his chest. Butters, slightly surprised, hurried to keep up with him, arriving on the front steps just as Kyle took a break from knocking to ring the doorbell.

The action almost seemed symbolic- how someone might wanna punch something when they were frustrated was the way Kyle knocked on the door; sharp and hard enough that his knuckles were probably going to be sore later. He stabbed his finger at the doorbell button as if he wanted it to bleed.

Butters reached out, grabbing his hand before Kyle could go back to beating the door like an abused dog. " _Easy,_ feller... I think if anyone's home, they heard you, now just give it a sec."

Kyle reacted... poorly to being grabbed. He wrenched his hand away, twisting on Butters with _fury_ twisting up his face. The tension in his jaw had spread, fleeing elsewhere as his mouth opened, presumably to yell at him, and infected his face in the way his eyebrows drew low over his eyes and his nostrils flared, a long finger gloved in green extended to jab at Butters but stopping just short of making actual contact with him.

Before Kyle spoke, there was the _snick_ of the door being unlocked.

Heads turned as the portal swung open a few inches. Revealed in the narrow space between the door and its frame was...

" _Wendy!"_

Butters and Kyle cried out together, tension flowing outwards.

"Hey, guys..." Wendy greeted, but it was without her usual strength. Butters picked up on it right away- she sounded _tired,_ or maybe...? _Sick?_

" _Wow_ you're pale." He marveled aloud as Wendy opened the door further, stepping back as a signal for them to come inside. "Are you okay?"

"Picked up some bug." Wendy shrugged, trying to put on a smile in the face of his concern. "Mom and dad let me stay home from church, but I'm _grounded_ for coming in past curfew _,_ so you guys better make this quick... what's going on?" By the time she'd posed a question, they had both passed inside and she was able to shut the door. Just within, Butters was able to spy a sick camp on the couch; big blankets mounded around the spot where Wendy had likely been curled up until they came knocking, and a steaming mug of some hot drink on the coffee table- he was guessing tea. Wendy seemed like the sort to drink tea when she was sick. The TV was on, but muted, and pillows were piled up on one armrest of the couch like she'd been intending to lay her head down and sleep off whatever _ick_ she'd gotten infected with.

"Stan's..." Kyle began to say, but hesitated on the next word. Then he pushed through it. "We can't find Stan. He never came to my place last night, and he wasn't at his house. We just came from there, and his parents don't know anything. We were hoping you... uh... might have some idea..."

Wendy blinked blearily. Once, twice, and then her eyebrows popped up high over her exhausted and pale face. _"Wait,_ Stan never...? But- _oh no..."_

Reflexive, again. Butters stepped up to Wendy, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Hey there, don't strain yourself... let's get you sat back down, okay? Then we can talk..."

"But..." Wendy tried to protest, but Butters had to insist. Standing around when she was _clearly_ unwell just wasn't the way to do things if they wanted her to get better as fast as possible... and he knew full well how important Wendy was to the team. Her not being at 100 percent was dangerous to Dee and Kenny, and possibly all of South Park, depending on what came up.

"Back to the couch, c'mon... _there_ we go." Butters cheered as Wendy finally stepped along with his guidance, and the trio regrouped on the couch, with Wendy quickly nestling back into her blanket pile with a quietly grateful sigh. "Now what happened last night?" He asked her, he and Kyle taking seats on either side of her. As she got all wrapped up and cozy, he reached for her mug of- _yep, he was right-_ tea, and handed it to her when she was ready to take it. She accepted it with a fleeting smile and a nod.

"The garage we explored- there was a- _it was an endoskeleton,_ like the type that would go inside those animatronic characters at the new pizzeria. It was... _alive."_

Kyle blinked. Tension that had left him at finding Wendy and finding a possible place to start the search for Stan? It was coming back. "Wait, _what?_ What do you mean, _alive?"_

"I mean it was _moving on its own_ and _trying to kill us-_ or... _get_ us, I guess- I don't know what it was trying to do, really, but..." Wendy shuddered, bringing her tea to her lips and inhaling the steam before taking a little sip and lowering it down again. "Stan found it first, and Aiden, his baby doll, started crying. He called me over to look at the endoskeleton, and then it started _moving. It wasn't just motion detection- it knew when we were looking at it."_ A deep frown carved into her face. "We got out through a window- I messed up my arm and it _nearly... got_ Stan while he was getting out. It stole one of his shoes. We were scared, so we got out of there..."

Kyle's teeth were gritting again. Butters had a strong suspicion that the boy probably suffered from some kind of chronic pain for how much stress he appeared to inflict upon his teeth. He was about to ask Wendy for more details, but Kyle blinked as something hit him, and he spoke up first. "Wait, _wait-_ his baby- it- _did it stop crying when the thing started moving?"_

"Huh?" Wendy's head cocked. "I... maybe? I don't know if it was exact. It did stop crying before it _really_ came after us, but... I don't... _why?"_

Kyle looked down. Revelation washed over his face as he stared at the baby doll in his own possession.

"Okay, this is gonna sound _really weird_ but when I went with Kenny and Dee the other day to the pizzeria, so Karen could confirm she was the winner and set up her party? My baby... _went off._ I was near one of the animatronics, the cat one- _Scratcher? I think?_ Anyway, the baby stopped crying, and the machine activated on its own. The dude in the Sneaker costume was there, and he commented like it wasn't supposed to be doing that- and... my baby hasn't cried since. _At all."_

"You think there's a connection between the dolls and the endoskeleton trying to _kill us?"_ Wendy asked, incredulous despite the exhaustion in her voice. "Like _what?_ The dolls are just... antiquated teaching tools the school has been using for _years_ to try and scare kids out of being intimate... it's not like they're _alive."_

"I know- I _know_ it sounds crazy, but Stan is _missing_ and-"

"Right, right, all doors open..." Wendy nodded, putting a hand up to stop Kyle before he started ranting.

"What happened after you got away?" Butters quested.

"I... messed up my arm breaking a window for us to get out through." Wendy admitted, shrugging out of her blankets enough to present said arm, showing that it had been bandaged up. "Stan took me to his house to fix me up. He told me he was going to go meet up with you guys... but it was _really_ late by then. I got grounded for coming home so late... but if he never met up with you guys..."

"We didn't wait for him." Butters pointed out. "Dee and I were already late, Kyle's mom was mad enough at us when we came in- if we had waited up for Stan, she might've _really_ let us have it."

Wendy blinked. What was she puzzling over?

"So Stan walked me home, probably went to the meeting place to find you guys were gone... that must have been around one in the morning- maybe later. That's when he goes missing."

"Do you think... the skeleton-thingy got him?" Butters asked. He didn't hesitate to believe that Wendy saw _exactly_ what she'd seen, and the idea of an animated skeleton without all the friendly body pieces made his skin crawl. Worse was the idea that they'd simply _escaped from it,_ not _stopped it-_ if it wasn't just guarding the garage, that thing could have been on the _loose._

"I... I don't know." Wendy admitted. "But guys, _don't you get it?_ The animatronics- the new pizzaria- _something's obviously up with that place-_ it's not _safe-_ Stan was supposed to go to your house and tell you guys and get the information on to Kenny ASAP; _he doesn't know,_ and we can't _text anyone_ because everyone's phones might be _..._ _ **ugh**_ _,_ fucking _compromised._ We all turned off our data last night... _fuck_ and this might have something to do with the lab? Did anyone else find anything last night?"

"Dee and I did." Butters reported quickly. "Dee took a couple lumps, but... _uh..._ it's a long story, actually."

"Save it for later." Kyle demanded. "Whatever is going on with that pizzeria comes first- we need to find Stan and warn Kenny. All of _our_ phones are off, but that doesn't mean other people. Butters, you didn't take any pictures last night, right?"

"U-uh, _right."_ It was a shock to get addressed directly. It nearly made him panic when he met Kyle's gaze head-on, realizing for possibly the first time that the taller boy had hazel eyes. "Dee went in alone when Izzy started crying."

"Then you're safe to turn your data back on." Kyle posited. "And even if the _rest of the group_ is off the grid right now, you can find Kenny by messaging his _sister-_ they're going to be together all day, today.

"What about you?" Wendy asked. "What are you gonna do?"

"Check out the garage you guys investigated- see if the endoskeleton is still there, or if there's any clues." Kyle answered, standing up now. He had a course of action, and all the tension that had been gathering up in him earlier compelled him to move.

"You know separating from the group is the _worst_ thing to do, right?" Wendy asked him flatly. "I should come with you..."

"You're _sick."_ Kyle reproached.

"Heroes don't get sick days, and there's _nothing_ I can do from home with everyone offline like this. You _can't_ expect me to just... _sit here_ and watch daytime TV while you're all out there trying to find Stan- and what if you need back-up? I can at least... _stand in the background and call the police_ if something goes really wrong."

She was grasping at straws- Wendy was _desperate_ to do something, her face screwed up as she knew _full well_ the best thing for her to do right now was _sit on her ass and try to sleep._

"There _is_ something you can do." Kyle argued. "... a plan B, in case things go wrong. _Really_ wrong."

* * *

"Why the _hell_ is there a network of tunnels under a school? Is this _all_ storage space?"

Stan couldn't help wondering aloud as he walked down the narrow pathways, closely followed by the thudding metal skeleton that kept his baby doll in its possession. Looking back at it was an exercise in brain-fuckery, watching it _move_ when everything about it made him certain it should have clattered to the floor like so much scrap metal... which only served to make the thing more unnerving. Even able to shine a light on it, up close, and watch it carry its weight from step to step, it looked _wrong,_ and his skin crawled whenever he lingered for longer than a glance.

It was uncanny. _Surreal._

He hated it.

So instead he looked forward, and saw the hall ahead stretch on for a disturbing length- so much so that he wondered just how much of this was _actually beneath the school._

The thing behind him made another buzzing hum, softer than the angry one that had compelled him to cooperate. It sounded like a nominal _I don't know._

"Where are we going?"

He'd asked before, but there was still no answer. The thing apparently didn't have access to words; the voice boxes for the animatronics must have been part of their suits rather than their skeletons.

 _Jesus Christ this is fucking stupid. What the hell is this thing after? … and why is it bringing me with it?_

Stan's breath caught as he felt a metal hand grasp him by the shirt. It halted him, and reminded him that while the thing appeared unbalanced and stupid, he knew _full well_ it had the strength to tear off limbs... and that he needed to thank his lucky stars that his shoe slipped off back at the garage, rather than his entire leg giving way. Stopping made him look left and right, first faced with a blank wall, and then twisting his head the other way to be confronted by a closed door, turning the little LED flashlight of his phone upon it.

He glanced back at the endoskeleton. It had gone still again, utterly without motion because it didn't breathe. It was creepy in the same way a mannequin was; shining eyes staring with faux-awareness despite their bulbous nature and being part of a starkly inhuman face.

At a guess, he attempted the door. The handle didn't give. It was locked.

The hand that grasped him by the back of the shirt changed course, _shoving_ him out of the way so hard that he tripped and barely caught himself before his face hit the floor, although his knees crashed hard against the concrete while his hands slapped down with painful force. He yelped as he went, his phone clattering away from him as he saved against the ground and the flashlight beam dancing around the hall before settling on the ceiling. He had to scramble to get it back, twisting around as quickly as he could and shining the beam back on the thing just as it was trying the knob with its own metal hand. When it discovered the same he had, that the door was indeed locked, it made another noise... like an electric _crackling_ that snapped against the air.

It began to pull on the knob. The door groaned, but then the wooden material snapped and splintered while the metal hinges warped and screeched. All at once, screws ripped free and the door came loose in a cacophony of destruction, the useless slab of wood thrown over Stan's head with the same effort one would use to launch a paper airplane. It crashed to the floor beyond him, skidding and screaming against the concrete as it did before coming to silent rest.

With the door gone, the endoskeleton stepped into the room.

Stan considered the moment- it was a chance to run, _run the hell away and get the fuck out of here,_ but... what had the thing been looking for? Had it found it? _Why was it down here?_

He needed to know. He couldn't run away. Getting back to his feet, he approached the wrenched open doorway... and peered in.

In an instant, he was blinded as motion-triggered lights flared to life on the ceiling. Cursing, eyes had to screw shut for a second before he could blink a multitude of times and actually get his bearings.

The room was stacked high with boxes containing textbooks, and smelled of the glue in the bindings. There was a desk in the corner, crowded with the boxes that were stacked in somewhat precarious fashion, with an old MAC on its surface that sported a thin layer of dust on the screen. A set of long fluorescent bulbs were fixed to the ceiling, providing dramatically bright light against the endoskeleton that stood in the middle of its illumination, multiple versions of its black shadow cast in every direction below it, each a horrifying mimicry of the humanoid shape the machine was built in.

It began to scream. There was no other word for it. While the sound crackled and popped, it was unmistakably a scream; anguished and _angry._

It took a step, turned, and pitched the doll in its hand, Stan's _project doll,_ at the wall, causing it to shatter upon impact in a mess of plastic and circuitry. Stan yelped, a hand half-reached out as something as silly and fleeting as _his grade_ and the fine associated with the doll were allowed to pass by his exhausted brain for a split second... before his attention shifted back to the bot, still letting out its angry and grating electrical bellow.

"What's wrong?" He yelled at it, afraid and confused. "Why did we come down here? _D_ _id something happen to you here?"_

The distorted howling cut off, and it turned around to look at him. The eyes had changed quality again, the humanizing spark in them seeming frantic. Upset. Scared.

 _It was scared, too._

A metal hand was flung out, _pointing,_ stabbing in the direction of the doll's broken pieces.

"The doll? Did something... _happen to you while you were the doll?"_ He guessed, face screwing up slightly. The dolls were school property, but this project was for middle schoolers. That didn't make any sense, unless... _Unless it happened a few years ago-_ back when this building taught everyone from kindergarten to eighth grade. South Park used to have just the one primary school, and kids got bussed to a nearby city for high school... but that had changed a few years ago, due to the town growing in population. The middle school had been built a couple years ago, and the grades split up into different buildings to make space for the load of students they needed to handle. "... were the dolls stored in this room when... when bad things happened to you?"

Finally, for the first time, Stan got a solid answer; a _nod._ He'd found the right track.

"... were you trying to find the others?"

Another nod, vigorous.

"They won't be here- they built another school building and- and they're not even _there_ right now; they've been handed out the kids for the project- they're all over town right now!"

That... was not what the endoskeleton wanted to hear. It began screaming again, gathering itself up and making a flying leap. Stan cried out, diving out of the way, certain that the thing had finally lost it and was going to kill him... but it wasn't aiming for him. It was aiming for the _wall,_ attaching readily like a gecko as limbs that had arranged for bipedal motion rearranged to bow out wide and claw into the rough stone that made up the borders of the room with enough raw strength that bits cracked and splintered off. It scuttled along said wall to the edge of the doorway, springing out into the hall beyond.

A second later, it stopped screaming.

Stan was laid out on the floor, on his belly, just inside and to the side of the doorway. The way the endoskeleton had fled would have necessitated a full U-turn around the corner of the doorway to look where it had gone, but Stan wasn't sure he wanted to look. The quiet was more frightening than when he'd been able to hear its steps at his side.

" _Jeez Louise,_ what in the world are _you doing down here?"_

A voice. Muffled, as if the person were speaking into a metal bowl. At first Stan thought the person somehow knew where he was, and was addressing him, but instead he heard them continue.

"Good thing I installed trackers in all of you... building these skeletons ain't cheap, y'know. Now what's gotten into you? First Scratcher starts acting coo-coo, then you wander off from the worktable... What are you even... – _oh."_

The voice, it was a man. He was talking to the endoskeleton- and Scratcher? That was an animatronic at the new pizzeria, wasn't it? They had one that looked like a cat. The voice must have been the promoter who'd been around town, trying to drum up interest in the place... and if his voice was anything to go on, it sounded like he was still _wearing the mascot costume._

Stan heard steps, approaching the doorway. The place where he'd made a flying leap to get now became a hiding place, and he held his breath as he rolled beneath the desk in the corner of the room, hastily stabbing at his phone to kill the light it had still been projecting this entire time. He drew up his knees, curling tightly into a ball once beneath the surface and bordered on both sides by stacks of boxes.

"Heh... this place. Haven't been down here in... _Jeez_ it's been _years."_

 _I... I think I know that voice. He sounds familiar. **Really** familiar... _

"Well, enough _nostalgia,_ we've gotta get your glitchy ass back to the- _what the- AUGH!"_

There was a sound of bodies colliding, a heavy thud of a man in a mascot suit hitting the floor, and then a guttural and angry scream as metal clanking receded, suggesting that the endoskeleton had attacked before proceeding to _run the fuck away._

" _GET BACK HERE!"_ The man's voice roared, and there was more muffled swearing beneath the sound of strain- Stan could only guess he was getting back up. "We've gotta do a birthday party- _I need you so I don't have to wear the suit the whole time!"_

Stan's breath caught.

A birthday party.

 _Karen's birthday party._

* * *

 _ **:: The Author's Corner::**_

W E L P

ONWARDS!

-Buttlord


	22. Missing Kids

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Missing Kids::**

"Why're you turning off your phone?"

"I've already sent off all my invitations." Karen reported cheerily to Tricia, the pair of them standing at the edge of the playground in the middle of town. It was where Dee and her brothers had brought her after breakfast, as well as the meeting place for everyone she'd invited to her birthday party... And she'd admit to obsessively checking her phone until people started showing up. There had been, for a moment, an anxiety that the event of her birthday would go utterly ignored by everyone besides her brothers... one that was banished when her usual group of friends showed up. Tricia had even been flanked by her brother, Craig, wearing a baby harness for the plastic doll that had been assigned to him, same as the other older kids. In tow with him, holding his hand, was his boyfriend Tweek.

Karen had invited not just her friends, but friends of her brothers'- the raffle got her all the bells and whistles, after all; she wanted to share it.

"I don't wanna get distracted during the party, worrying about anyone who doesn't show up." She added, putting away the device as it powered down. "If someone decides not to come, that's not something that should get me down in the middle of things... right?"

"Unplugging for self care." Ike observed, having joined the girls with Dougie shortly behind him. Younger kids from their own grade were enjoying the playground, and older kids were clustering over by the basketball hoop at the edge of the playground area- no doubt to complain about the project that had a number of them carrying about mechanical infants. "Sounds like a _grandpa_ move. _"_

"Sounds smart." Tricia rebutted. "Anyone who misses out on this can go fuck themselves. Which reminds me..."

There was a pause as Tricia reached into her jacket, drawing out a thin package to hand over to Karen.

"Happy birthday."

" _Hey-_ I thought gifts were supposed to wait until we got to the pizzeria?" Dougie questioned. "My mom's dropping mine off..."

"Snooze, you loose, dweeb." Tricia countered with a smirk. "I wanted to get mine out in front, anyway."

Dougie's jaw dropped open for a moment, but he accepted the situation as Karen gave Tricia a beaming smile behind blushing cheeks.

"You _guys-_ I _told_ you, you didn't need to buy me anything..." She bashfully complained while accepting the package, wrapped in rainbow paper and tied off with a shining golden ribbon... and then drawn upon in black sharpie to cover the bright pattern with black skulls. Tricia's weren't quite as neat as the ones Karen had personally embroidered on some of her clothing, but the nod towards her personal style was something that made hesitate to rip off the paper- it felt like ripping apart art.

"Need to?" Tricia shrugged. "Still did. Now open it, _birthday bitch."_

Karen hesitated a little longer, but finally slipped the ribbon off of the corners before ripping the paper open, knowing full well that if she tried to carefully pull it apart at the edges Tricia would just reach in and tear the paper for her- _she'd done that last year._

Inside the wrapped package was a... book? The outside cover was a dark maroon, faintly fuzzy, like those posters that came with markers. Tucking her fingers inside the front cover, she opened it up to find the contents... did not exist. The paper inside was blank- not lined or otherwise. _Blank._

The realization of what it was hit her when she felt the quality of the paper. It was a sketchbook! A fancy, soft-to-the-touch, bound-like-a-diary sketchbook! And, by the feel of the paper, one of decent quality; the sort of thing Karen could never get her parents to buy for her, and she wouldn't dare ask Kenny for since she _still_ didn't know how he got money to do nice things for her.

"... Tricia..."

Her face felt hot, like she was gonna cry. She clutched the object to her chest.

"What, is it the wrong kind of paper?"

"No, it... _it's great._ Sorry, I just..."

All of her friends were _staring_ at her, making her feel self conscious for going to pieces over a nice sketchbook. Ike and Dougie didn't know what to make of her reaction, and Tricia's constant sassy poker face was showing a thin crack for concern to peer through- a split second of worry that she'd done the wrong thing.

"What are all you _dweebs_ doing, staring like that?"

A voice from behind; dark and disdainful... and yet the sound of joy as Karen found herself with a handy distraction, hastily turning around and wiping her face with a sleeve. Once cleared of any possible tears, she saw that Henrietta had arrived.

"You made it!" Karen near-squealed, jumping in place.

"I told you was coming." Henrietta responded flatly, near physically shrugging of Karen's overwhelming enthusiasm... but there was a faint turn to the corner of her lips- painted their customary black. Henrietta, like a lot of kids in her age, had grown somewhat taller in recent years. Despite this, her aesthetic had not changed at all, still sporting black dresses, netted gloves, and her long cigarette holder as staples to her appearance, as well as all-black makeup to stand out against white-as-fuck skin. Additionally, it appeared, was a messenger bag [black, of course] slung across her body and bulging somewhat bulkily against her hip. "Conformists are the ones who casually lie all over the place."

"I was worried you'd find something better to do."

"On a Sunday? In this fucking town?" Henrietta rolled her eyes, taking a drag on her lit cigarette and blowing out a smoke ring. "Unlikely... and I woulda called, first. This your nerd crew?"

"Oh, right!" Karen whipped around again, having gotten herself together. "You haven't really met my friends- Dougie, Ike, Tricia." She indicated each with their names.

"Small town." Ike shrugged, giving Henrietta a nod that denoted _some_ familiarity. "I've seen the bitch around the block."

"This bitch will light you up if you fuck with her." Henrietta lobbed back casually. "... but so long as you're with Karen, I won't hospitalize anyone. _Probably."_

"Guys..." Karen winced- why couldn't everyone just get along?

"What's in the bag?" Tricia asked, cutting things off before Ike could make a bigger ass of himself... or, worse, Dougie got involved in the attempts to mark territory.

"Sins, blasphemy, candles... the usual." Henrietta reported. "Figured if the pizza-place totally blows I could always summon something to haunt it; fuck up all those white-picket-fence moms who bring their stupid screaming hell spawn there for the conformist birthday experience." She paused. "Oh, and a thermos of coffee."

 _All the essentials._ Karen smiled, comforted by Henrietta being... _Henrietta._

" _Summon_ something?" Dougie spoke up, incredulous. "Like a _ghost_ or something?"

"I was thinking _soul-sucking demon_ but hey, general summoning spells are kinda like logging into chat roulette; you're gonna get a _dick_ , you just don't know what _color_ it'll be."

Ike sputtered, letting out a laugh as Tricia stifled a giggle.

"Ghosts and demons aren't real." Dougie proclaimed, expression sour among his friends. "They're just spook stories for little kids to cry about."

"Maybe you should check your pacifier, then." Henrietta rebutted without a beat of hesitation. "Cause I've got more _pitch black soul wrenching pain_ in this _bag_ than you could work through with a _lifetime_ of psychiatric help."

Karen watched as Dougie's eyes got big and his lips went tight, making the still-healing damage from a couple weeks ago pucker as his jaw clenched. Panicked, she rushed between him and Henrietta. "H- _hey!_ We'll be getting going soon- we should- uh- probably gather everyone up to walk over?"

"Yeah." Tricia agreed, stepping up and _grabbing_ Dougie where Karen had simply blocked him, Ike falling in line as the indignant ginger was all but dragged away. Karen watched, feeling somewhat helpless- that... _wasn't_ how she wanted that encounter to go.

"How long has that _Chuckie-looking_ little dweeb been hot for you?" Henrietta asked, ever apathetic in her tone.

" _Huh?"_ Karen felt a jolt of adrenaline at the suggestion, whipping about to look at the older girl as the rest of her friends went to the center of the playground to alert the group at large that they were getting ready to move out. "Wha- what? What do you mean? Dougie doesn't... I mean, I don't think... _what?"_

Her sputtering earned her a stare from beneath lashes supporting a truly impressive amount of mascara. It appeared Henrietta had decided to wear her red color contact lenses today, too, giving her stare a punctuated pop of color. "Seriously? You don't see that he was _barking_ cause he felt _threatened?"_

"Dougie just doesn't believe in ghosts, that's all- he doesn't believe in anything that you can't measure."

Henrietta continued staring for a few more seconds, and then rolled her eyes, taking another drag of her cigarette and blowing the smoke off to the side. Her free hand reached out, patting the top of Karen's head. "Never change, sugar-skull. I don't think I'll be able to handle it if you have a _boy crazy_ phase."

* * *

Kyle felt a cold stone sinking to the bottom of his stomach as he approached the garage that Stan and Wendy had been sent to check out the night before. He had hoped, maybe a little foolishly, that Sunday would mean a late start or even that the place would be closed, and that the break-in had not yet been discovered. Instead, coming down the street to the storefront, he found parked police cars and yellow _'POLICE LINE – DO NOT CROSS'_ tape strung up around the perimeter.

 _SPPD, count on 'em to be exactly where you **don't** need them to be. _

Despite this, Kyle didn't avert his approach, coming all the way up to the police line and getting no attention from the officers within. The front door was open, a man in uniform talking with a guy who was presumably the owner in the just-visible lobby space.

 _Wendy didn't talk about going in through the front- she said they escaped out a window from the garage space._

Kyle circled, following the police line and ducking a little behind squad cars, not wanting to be noticed unless he had to. Going from the front to the back, he looked down in hopes of seeing prints in the snow, but there were no clean lines; instead showing a thousand upturned depressions of police shoes having gone all over the place, obliterating any tracks one might use to figure out the comings and goings from the night before.

Along the side of the building was an emergency exit door; bowed outwards and looking as if something big had slammed into it. Further back and around the corner, Kyle found more men in uniform, and a particular Sergeant- Harrison Yates. The man looked to be the dictionary definition of disgruntled, a deep frown carved in beneath a mustache that was far more gray than red these days, and had been allowed to grow in a bushier style. He had a brown leather jacket shrugged up high, and his hands on his hips as he looked up at another officer, who had a ladder placed to get at something.

Kyle peered up- a broken window. Wendy and Stan's escape route. They were currently pulling a jacket from it, one Kyle recognized as belonging to Wendy. It was all torn up, broken glass having ripped through it, and one of the sleeves in particularly poor shape. Wendy had mentioned her arm getting messed up in the escape... and getting sliced up at a shitty small town garage and then walking him in the middle of the night without a coat did sound like an _excellent_ way to get sick in a hurry.

There was no cover back here, no parked squad cars, which meant that Kyle was standing out in the open at the edge of a police line. It was only moments before Yates noticed him, and scowled while stepping up to the line on his side.

"Get outta here, kid, I don't got time for lookee-loos." Yates grumbled, his leather jacket open and reminding Kyle that the man always had a gun on him; his underarm holster was possibly the man's trademark. "Better yet, go home, before I've got another _hysterical parent_ calling in about a missing kid."

Kyle blinked. _Another?_ As in... more than one?

"Missing kid?" Kyle played dumb. "What's going on?"

"Police business." Yates snarled, his glower increasing in intensity. " _Seriously,_ first a robbery and now its like every mom is on her stupid period- cop can't enjoy a nice Sunday at home, has to come and _do his job._ Back when I was a kid you had to be gone for _two days_ before anyone reported you missing..."

"Yates!"

There was a shout, and the bowed-out emergency exit door swung open on squealing hinges as yet another man in uniform let himself out, holding an evidence bag containing a... was that a boot?

That was Stan's. Just like Wendy said- the robot had pulled it right off of his foot.

"Ah- are you _kidding me?_ Who uses as a _mechanic garage_ as a _child murder den?"_ Yates turned his back on Kyle, heading for the officer who'd shouted for him. "Damnit... alright, _fine-toothed-comb_ time; let's get everything bagged and cataloged before _another_ pissy mom calls about her missing kid."

Kyle hadn't hung about to listen to Yates grumble, instead turning away and putting some distance between himself and the garage. He wouldn't be able to get inside while the place was crawling with police, but he'd still learned a lot from the momentary encounter, and _none_ of it made him happy. If Stan _had_ come back here the night before, presumably to collect the things he and Wendy left behind and find out if the robot was still in the building, he hadn't managed to get anything. The fucked up door suggested something big and strong had forced it open... and Kyle could only guess that was the killer robot that had chased them- now on the loose.

And Yates kept mentioning reports of missing kids. Plural. If Ms. Marsh had figured out Stan was missing by now, that would account for one report, but more?

What if the robot was loose, and killing kids? The garage didn't seem to be a _murder den_ as Yates phrased it- if it was, that officer wouldn't have been so eager to show his boss a _shoe._ But what if another place was?

 _What if the pizzeria was?_

Kyle felt sick. Before leaving Wendy's place, they'd discussed a plan B. The more he learned, the more it sounded like triggering it would be the best of a bad situation.

Frowning tightly, he pulled out his phone. The photos he'd taken with Kenny last night had been wiped off of it, ported over to a secure laptop of Wendy's using a USB cable, allowing him to turn his data back on with minimal risk. It meant he could stay in contact with Butters, who was trying to locate Kenny, and Wendy, who had her desktop computer at home to communicate from... which had also been secured with a paid VPN service, among a few things of her own design.

Opening the group chat between the three of them, he fired off a message.

[Sent, 12:22] Any luck?

The icon signifying someone was typing popped up. A moment later, a response from Butters bubbled in from the bottom of the screen.

[Received, 12:23] Couldn't get a hold of Karen, but did message Clyde- he got an invite. Says they're already heading to Sneaker's; party is scheduled to start at 1 but Karen wanted to arrive early. They're walking across town right now. Trying to catch up.

 _Shit- that means..._

[Sent, 12:24] Try to get them to leave. Pull a fire alarm if you have to. Police are here at the garage, talking about multiple missing kids. Animatronic is loose, door is banged up. No idea where Stan is. Wendy?

There was a pause. Kyle swallowed, worried that Wendy had given in to being sick and fallen asleep at her desk. Then, after entirely too long staring at his screen, a response finally appeared.

[Received, 12:26] SP Elementary has a news post- signs of a break in. Broken window, messed up fence, and more. Nothing's been reported missing, but the elementary kids are getting tomorrow off school so the police can investigate.

There was another pause before pictures popped up in the chat; a photo of the shattered window and the... _ripped open?_ Fence. Kyle had to squint at it, because the damage done to the chain link wasn't the sort that would come from bolt cutters. No, the links were misshapen, twisted and warped by a dragging and pulling force, with the area around the break in the fence being the worst for it; looking like something had grabbed and yanked with enough force to make the links _rip apart_ from one another.

It reminded him of the bulged out door he'd just seen at the garage; that was a _metal door,_ bowed out by some kind of force that had hit it like a battering ram.

[Sent, 12:27] Half of SPPD has to be here at the garage. Maybe there isn't anyone at the school right now.

[Received, 12:27] What about plan B?

Kyle hesitated, staring at the short question from Wendy. She had a point, if he went off to investigate another lead, it would take time to get back... and time was _not_ on their side right now.

[Sent, 12:28] Prepare the online variant, but don't deploy. Greatest chance of success is if I do it in person.

[Received, 12:28] Yeah, also greatest chance that he'll fucking kill you.

Kyle winced. Wendy wasn't wrong. There was inherent danger to their backup plan. Internally, he thought of it as the _**nuclear option.**_

[Sent, 12:29] We'll get there when we get there.

* * *

 _ **::The Author's Corner::**_

Remember back when these stories clocked in at _under_ 20 chapters?

Yeah, me too.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	23. Possessed Robots

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Possessed Robots Gotta Come From Somewhere::**

Arriving at the new brick building that housed Sneaker's SnacShak, Dee felt damn near dead on her feet. Lack of sleep, rushes of adrenaline, the fact that she'd been recently whacked in the face, running out on her parents, and the _stupid doll_ cradled in her arm were all factors her zoning out more than usual. She'd spent the majority of her day with Kenny and his siblings as a space cadet, failing to come up with the appropriate words to write on Karen's notepad and ending up holding on to both it and the pen in one of the pockets of her cargo jeans, effectively hitting the _fuck it_ button of dealing with it later.

She suspected it was going to take a well-planned time travel jump to find out what really happened that night, anyway. So long as they got their act together within the next week, it wouldn't be too hard... and getting Kenny to focus his attention _anywhere_ besides Karen right now was a lost cause. For now, she'd consent to be a stone, with the chaos flowing around her rather than dragging her along with it.

"Dee! _Dee!"_

Karen was bouncing just ahead of her, calling out for her attention. Hurtling back down to earth, Dee blinked and realized it had begun snowing as the troop of kids crossed town from the playground to restaurant row. Fat flakes floated down on a faint wind, dusting the world with sparkling [and cold] glitter. At first she thought Karen was just excited about the snow, but the jabbing of a gloved finger indicated the brightly lit and brand new sign on the front of the building; probably the cleanest and clearest it would ever be, since the place was new.

"Can we take a selfie with the sign? _Please?"_ Karen requested, shuffling in the snow and making her myriad skirts wiggle back and forth with the motion.

Despite exhaustion, Dee popped an eyebrow, and managed a half-smirk. The data on her phone was off right now, but she could still snap the picture. She'd send it to Karen later as a digital memento... and maybe post it to Instagram, if she liked the place. That would boost the business and make sure the pizzeria succeeded in their little town. Stopping outside, the people around her slowed and halted, and she came to realize she'd been traveling in a crowd she'd been oblivious to; Clyde had apparently been right next to her, with Kenny and Kevin on the other side, and an addition of Craig, Tweek, and Token bringing up the rear. Blinking blearily, she realized that Karen had her own crowd of nearby followers; Ike, Tricia, and Dougie all clustered near her, with Henrietta like a casually smoking shadow behind the main body.

It was at this point that Dee realized some invited people were missing. Other kids in Karen's grade were completely unrepresented outside her main group, and Kyle wasn't present. Neither was Stan, who certainly got an invite, nor Butters. She was fairly certain Shelly had been sent an invite as well, although her not being here was hardly a surprise. _None of the girls_ had showed up- not Wendy, nor any friends she might have brought with her, since Karen had made her invitations very open to extras coming along. Karen had won a party that was meant to feed _thirty,_ and only ended up with a dozen people to celebrate it with.

That and a couple of robotic children; Craig and Tweek had theirs, and Dee couldn't forget about Izzy. Least, not as long as she kept crying every half-hour.

 _It. It, not she._

"Do you want me to hold her?" Clyde offered, the third in the trio of co-parents Dee was part of, and oddly amiable. Again, he was hanging out near her, rather than with his group. _What was that kid up to?_

Dee shrugged; she'd take any excuse in a storm to put down the creepy robot for a while. Departing from Clyde's company, she stepped up to kneel down in the snow with Karen popping up over her shoulder as she swapped her phone into selfie mode, angling the shot upwards to get the sign as well as their faces. It wasn't a bad shot... but it had some empty space.

Looking up, Dee made eye-contact with Kenny, waving him over. When he started moving, she also jabbed a finger at Kevin, whom he grabbed and drug along before the older boy knew what was happening. From the sharp below angle, and with some elbowing and shifting, the picture was finally taken; with all three of the siblings in the space above her, the sign framed between the two older brothers while Karen appeared to be almost perched atop her shoulder with the biggest smile anyone ever saw on a little girl's face.

Appropriately commemorated with the snap of the camera, Karen let out a whoop and sprinted for the doors, her group of followers falling in line after her with similar enthusiasm... minus Henrietta, who could not be bothered to exude any more energy than was her default. She also didn't snuff out her cigarette in the trash can just outside the front doors, seeming to pointedly puff as she passed inside, and the procession of other kids followed behind her.

Dee felt hands on her shoulders; Kenny's, helping her up off of her knees.

 _Jesus cocksucking Christ I need coffee, or I'm gonna pass out on my feet._

" _Good move."_ Kenny praised through his muffling hood and scarf as Kevin joined the rest of the group that was getting inside and out of the snow, leaving the two of them as the only ones dragging behind. _"Send that to my phone later? I can get it printed- she'll love that."_

Dee scoffed softly. _Not if I do it first- you're already the favorite big brother. I gotta win some points here and there._

" _... You okay?"_ He asked- it was possibly the first spare moment they'd stolen since he'd showed up on her doorstep that morning. There was a lot folded up into that question; not just about the rescue he'd ended up providing, but about whatever happened last night as well... and even _she_ wasn't exactly certain what had gone down, or how to communicate it.

For now, she looked up at him and managed a upwards squeeze of her shoulders into a shrug, forcing a worn-out smile onto her face as her brows puckered together. _Fuck if I know. Okay is a weird measuring stick right now._

Kenny hesitated, and then made a suggestion. _"Do you wanna go back to my house after this? Karen's gonna spend the night at Tricia's- they've already got a whole after-party planned. If you don't wanna go home..."_

Oh, wouldn't _that_ just impress her fucking parents- the whole _thing_ this morning had started because _parental approval_ was in the negative numbers; in part over the whole _boyfriend_ situation. That said, the offer was tempting- to hit the _fuck it_ button again, over and over, on every little thing that came up and just did what made her feel less shitty in the moment. The idea of going home with him, passing the fuck out where she didn't have to worry about anyone judging her behavior for a few hours, was _heavenly_ in concept.

In practice, she knew it was no good. Knowing Mom, she'd been reported _missing_ by now... and Dad was just as likely as to be trying to re-home her cat as punishment for ghosting them. No, she'd have to go home and face the music- if only because her parents had all her pills, and the whole _ripping time and space with her ass_ thing was going to be important to finding out _what the fuck_ happened in that garage the night before.

She shook her head no. _Sorry Kenny... I gotta deal with my bullshit. But thanks._

Following her denial, she slipped in to hug him, leaning on him more than she meant to as she did so. She felt him stumble, then laugh his cute little laugh while managing to keep them both upright.

She'd have kissed him if she weren't worried about being seen. They lingered a moment longer than they should have, came apart holding hands, and finally broke contact to head inside.

* * *

Dread was the key emotion in Kyle when he found his way past the police line at South Park Elementary, his guess that the police would be absent turning out to be correct. Passing through the rent fence himself, as well as getting up and through the broken window [all while still handling his creepily silent doll from science class] were things that made him swallow back a haunted feeling of following the trail of something that should not have been followed... and yet? He was sure that if Stan ditched out on his house, and didn't stay home, he would have done exactly the same; followed the monster to try and solve things on his own, no matter how _idiotic_ going alone was.

He wanted to punch the guy- this whole thing was so _stupid..._ but imagining violence against him felt like bad luck; particularly as he passed into the school and through a doorway that had been unblocked by way of the door having been torn off of its hinges.

The thing that had been here was _strong_ and _destructive,_ and what it did to inanimate objects made Kyle horribly afraid of what it might have done to his flesh-and-blood friend.

The path of destruction led down below the school, past the boiler room and into a set of narrow hallways that Kyle had never ventured into before. They dark, but fumbling about just inside the door he found a lightswitch that, when flipped, made the way bright with yellow halogens- a warm tone that usually conveyed a sunny afternoon, but here produced a surreal sterile effect that made Kyle feel as if he were stepping into a space of unreality; uncanny and unwanted.

Ahead of him, a long way down the hall, another door had been ripped off yet another set of hinges.

Dangerously close to losing his nerve, Kyle hurried forward at a jog, clutching his disturbingly still doll to his chest as his trot halted before the room that had been opened with all the care with which one would rip the top off of a tin can.

Stepping inside, he found... an old storage room. Boxes were piled high, filled with textbooks. There were no foreboding shadows, no unknown persons or things- just... boxes, and the smell of book binding glue. He turned in a circle, noting a desk near the door, tucked against the wall and ensconced in more boxes, with an old MAC computer on top- the kind with the semi-clear casing and the bubble-like shape, body pieces made up of blue and gray. The black screen reflected at him a bowed reflection of himself and the room.

Turning a little further, abnormalities in the room came to light... and made him want to bolt. First were cracks in the walls; like something had clawed into the concrete and made it chip and break, spiderwebs of cracking extending outward from a suggestion of crawling prints; like a mutant variant of spider man had used brute force to create handholds. Then, a little lower, he saw his first evidence of anything besides the rogue endoskeleton.

He saw a smashed baby doll. The plastic casing of its head had broken, exposing circuitry and wires, as well as a solid piece that might have been memory or battery. If he had any guess, it would be that it had been thrown at the wall and smashed apart there... but he recognized the clothes.

 _Stan's doll had been dressed like that- Aiden._

It was his first proof of where Stan had been since he went missing. _Stan had been here._

 _I was right! … that_ _ **fucking**_ _moron came down here all by himself!_

Outside the room, across the hall, Kyle here a violent _bang!_

 _… then again, I came down here all alone, too._

His heart was in his throat, looking left and right for something he could arm himself with... with nothing else, he grasped the spine of a heavy hardcover textbook out of one of the boxes, and hefted it up in his free hand, giving it a swing and deciding that would be better than nothing at all. Slipping a foot forward towards the doorway, he peered his head out, and looked left and right to glance up and down the narrow hall.

He saw nothing. No one. Just the wreckage of the door that had once kept this room closed, wedged up against another door across the way.

 _BANG!_

Kyle jolted backwards, ducking and looking up, as if something was going to drop through the ceiling and on top of him... but that wasn't where the sound came from. No, the violent impact rattled not the ceiling or floor, but that _door_ across the way- the one that happened to be held shut by the wrecked door being shoved up beneath its handle and wedged against the floor.

Mustering himself, Kyle stepped out into the hall, and peered through the quarter-pane of wire-netted glass that would allow someone to look into the room behind, steeling himself for some kind of horror. What? He had no idea. Maybe the mechanical monster Wendy had described, maybe the bloody mess of an _actual_ murder den.

Instead, he saw Stan.

The boy was backed up, shoulder dropped down like he was at football practice and about to take on one of the push-blocks to shove down the field. His hat was off, and his head was tucked down, feet pushing at the floor to throw himself at the door- _trying to get out._

It hit Kyle all at once. The way the door was wedged up; that wasn't an accident- Stan _had been trapped down here!_

 _By whom? Why?_

Stan impacted the door, and Kyle could hear him swearing with the painful hit that did nothing to budge it. His body hunched against it, nothing but his back visible from the narrow window into the room.

Ditching the book, Kyle banged on the door with his open palm to get his attention. "Stan? _Stan!"_

Stan jolted, tripping backwards from the door and landing squarely on his butt. He looked up with exhausted shadows around his eyes, mouth agape in disbelief.

His eyes were red- like he'd been crying.

" _Kyle?! How'd you-"_ Stan shook his head, getting his priorities straight. " _Can you open the door? I'm stuck!"_

Kyle backed off, hastily eyeing how the wrecked door had been wedged beneath the knob and finding that it was easy enough to loose by kicking at the lower edge. After a few solid hits where it jolted out, inch by inch, it finally fell flat to the ground... after which Stan was able to shove the intact door open with all the force of a geyser.

" _Stan!"_ Kyle didn't stand on ceremony or outrage; he rushed his friend and grabbed him to hug him. He didn't _care_ about the fight or anything else; it was good just to know he was _alive_ after all this bullshit. "Holy shit... _You're okay!"_

"W-whoa- Dude!" Stan might have backed off out of getting squeezed, but accepted it after a second. Both arms came around, and he let out a faint laugh. "Y-yeah, not dead... about that... Can we... uh... _get the fuck out of here?"_

Kyle pulled away, nodding a little. He was about to ask what all happened... when he realized that, now that the door was open and Stan was freed from his prison, a horrible _smell_ had also been freed. "What the- _oh, sick dude-!"_

"Fuck you, I was trapped in there all night." Stan reproached, taking the lead on _leaving_ once he'd messily stuffed his hat back on. "Guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do."

"Fucking _gross..."_ Kyle groused, but followed anyway. "... what about toilet paper...?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." Stan responded flatly, setting a brisk pace for the outside world. "Did Wendy fill you in? Is the party canceled? _Did they get the bastard?"_

"Wendy's grounded, and _sick,_ we had to find her at her house- but she told us about the endoskeleton. Did you...? I mean, you followed it down here? Or... what happened?"

Stan suddenly stopped, rounding on Kyle with wide eyes. "... _oh Jesus Christ, you don't know-_ Kyle, the party, _did they cancel the party?"_

"We didn't know something was wrong until we went and _found_ Wendy at her house!" Kyle fired back defensively. "They're already there, but I sent Butters, and I've got a back-up plan... But I spent all morning trying to find _you!"_

Stan processed that for a second, and then returned to his previous goal of getting the fuck out of the school, now taking it at a double-time pace. " _Shit_ this is bad- Dee's got his fucking doll- and... _shit,_ do you know if Craig and Tweek showed up? _Fuck, fuck, FUCK it's going to be a shitshow!"_

"The _dolls?"_ Kyle felt like groaning, but was jogging to keep up. He _hated_ it when he turned out to be right. That gut feeling he'd had a Wendy's house was getting confirmed. "The dolls! There's something _wrong_ with them, isn't there?!"

"They're _possessed!"_ Stan confirmed, getting free of the yellow hallways and back into the boiler room, booking it for the stairs. "They used to be stored down there, and—" Stan shuddered, a discovery he'd made getting remembered and nearly making him stop as they reached ground floor and natural light again. " _Ugh... it's nasty..."_

"What is? What happened down there?"

Stan kept moving, heading for the broken window. It was Sunday; all the doors would still be locked; easiest way out would be the way they'd come in.

"Stan, _what happened down there?"_

"The fucker in the mascot costume!" Stan snapped as they arrived at the broken window. _"He killed them down there, and they possessed the dolls-_ they've been _angry_ this whole time- he's the one who trapped me after he tracked the endoskeleton down there- figured the police would find me when they investigated the school."

" _Stan-"_ Kyle reached out, snatching at his jacket to keep him from just leaping out the window. " _Who is he?"_

Stan's teeth were gritting. It seemed like he didn't want to say it, possibly because he hadn't processed it. Kyle didn't like cornering him like this, but he needed to know.

Finally, he cracked.

"It's Garrison. He hid down there when his ratings as president went sour- his aides and staffers were trying to find him and take him back to DC. They tracked him down to that room, but he didn't want to leave until someone heard out _his_ side of the story, and..."

Kyle recoiled. _Garrison. Mister Garrison-_ their old teacher, who'd become president some years ago. That presidency had a mixed reputation now; Garrison had tried to run away from it at a certain point before he _really_ took control.

Either way, he'd risen to power on a very... specific platform.

" _He fucked them all to death?"_

Stan gave a solemn nod.

"Told me the whole story once he had me trapped- but he doesn't get it! The angry spirit from my doll hopped to that endoskeleton; it's why it's alive! It was looking for the other dolls, too! I don't know what it's gonna do, but angry ghosts in super-strong mechanical bodies- _Kyle we need to get everyone out of there and burn that place to the fucking ground!"_

Kyle didn't argue. He couldn't. He knew something had happened to his doll- the strange silence since visiting the pizzeria, the Scratcher animatronic moving on its own, the strangely familiar voice of the man inside the Sneaker costume- all the puzzle pieces clicked together, and they made a terrible picture.

"That's what we're gonna do." Kyle agreed. "You head to the pizzeria, try to get our friends out of there."

"What are _you_ gonna do?" Stan demanded.

He hesitated. This was plan B. The _**nuclear option.**_

"I'm gonna tell Cartman we tricked him."

* * *

 _ **::The Author's Corner::**_

HOLY HELLO I HAVE BEEN SITTING ON THAT REVEAL SINCE I FIRST CONCEPTED THIS STORY

DJIE:HRA:OIFJEO:ITGHqe:oijds:oifjetoihqwedoijdg:oihewr{o:iajf

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	24. Whole Lotta NOPE

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Whole Lotta NOPE:: **

Butters felt like his lungs were going to explode. He wasn't _unfit_ like Eric was, but he certainly wasn't a star sprinter or endurance runner. Getting from one end of South Park to the other on foot had been an ordeal that left him puffing and red upon arrival. His silver lining? That keeping his pace up had taken some of the chill away as it started to snow.

Now he just had to find Kenny, _fast._

Passing through the front doors was entering into a bubble of warmth that was almost _too_ warm with his recent run through town, but comforting as the snowflakes on his shoulders melted into his shirt. There was music; multiple kinds in fact. Booming and energetic tracks from the arcade were a distant background to a more _80's hair rock_ track playing out on stage; presumably by the animatronic performers. Butters couldn't from his current position, but he _could_ spy into the rear half of the main dining area; the side with the prize counter and a door to the kitchen. There he could see a number of people he knew clustered up, and picking out Kenny's bright orange parka was not hard at all.

Target sighted, he moved to join the crowd and hopefully drag him out of it. How they'd get everyone to leave the building he still didn't know, but _whatever_ plan he came up with would depend on Kenny's co-operation to actually work out... which meant convincing him of actual danger.

Not even out of the entryway, a head popped up and Butters found himself making eye contact with someone. It wasn't Kenny, or Dee, whom he could identify from her black knit hat and the bright red tuft of curls that always defied it. No, the person who looked at him and, upon sharing a moment of direct gazing, broke into a massive smile? _It was Clyde._

 _Oh hamburgers, don't tell me..._

Clyde made a motion to the others, excusing himself from the cluster and trotting across the room. Butters realized that he had Izzy again, even though it was Dee's turn to be looking after her. It was only moments before the bigger boy arrived, cutting Butters off before he could even get past the doorway to the coatroom.

"Butters!" Clyde greeted him with more enthusiasm than he ever had before in his life. "C'mon, before the party notices you- I think I've got it!"

"Wha- Clyde, _no,_ I gotta- _he-e-ey!"_

All at once, Butters found himself re-directed from his original course and _into_ said coat room. Unlike the main dining area, which had been lit up with party lights, this room was dim and insulated from the rest of the building. It was like the music had suddenly cut out, and they were left in the dim and quiet for Clyde to excitedly get in his face while squeezing Izzy up to his chest.

"Stop squirming, I just need you to tell me if I'm _right!"_ Clyde insisted, a gap showing in his teeth as he grinned. Without pause, without even a glance left or right to ensure they were alone, he went on. "Dee's a _chick,_ isn't she?"

 _All stop._ Butters stopped squirming, stopped thinking, stopped _everything-_ he might have even forgotten to breathe for a second there. He knew this was the subject Clyde was going to bring up, but he neither expected the boy to sound so _certain_ nor be _right-_ the mixture of which stalled him out on his original objective in the panicked shock that the bigger boy had obtained some kind of concrete evidence.

A second later, he was reminded of the _impending doom_ he had to deal with. " _Clyde,_ I told you, that information isn't for sale! Dee's my buddy, and buddies don't sell buddies out! _Not even for all the girls's allowance money!"_ He felt he'd made his point, allowing his voice to raise a little bit before yanking his arm back; the handhold Clyde had secured to drag him into this darkened space. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to Kenny-"

"It's not selling out if I just _guess_ it!" Clyde insisted, coming around quickly to block the exit. Clyde was _big-_ not in the way Eric was. Eric was just fat. Clyde, easily the second biggest guy in the class behind Eric when they'd been kids, had grown into that bigness with _height_ and remained broad in the shoulders- a build that had made him a favorite of the football coach and star of the team... it also made him a _lot_ harder to shove out of the way, since Butters was decidedly... _not_ of a particularly athletic shape. "C'mon, Butters, you just gotta tell me if I'm right- I'll still cut you in if you want."

" _No, no, no, no, no!"_ Butters emphasized each denial with a shake of his head, but Clyde was on the advance and forcing him back from the doorway. "That's-" He stumbled verbally. "That's _Dee's_ business and nobody else's- the girls taking bets on that is just _mean_ to begin with! They shouldn't be making fun outta people figurin' themselves out!"

"If I don't come back to my connection with a sure thing, I won't get _anything-_ c'mon, Butters, help me out here... be a pal?"

Butters was done with this. He'd had enough. He was ready to put his shoulder down and try to tackle past Clyde, despite his usual aversion to physical confrontation. There was a time and a place for fighting back, and this felt like both. Clyde could wrap it up in all the nice words he wanted, but it didn't change the fact that he was asking for something scummy; of which Butters had already refused to be party to. His answer wasn't changing, and the sense of being _cornered_ was the last straw!

In Clyde's arms, Izzy began to cry.

She was _loud..._ louder than normal? Butters felt like she was, but he hadn't had her for a bit. Maybe it just seemed loud because he'd been free of the crying for a day.

In the doorway behind Clyde, a silhouette appeared. It blocked out the light from outside the coatroom and made the black shape appear even more massive than it actually was. It wasn't a person, it couldn't have been- it was too tall, too bulky, and held far too still once it had stopped in the only exit to the small, off-to-the-side room. Worse, in the midst of its black bulk was a pair of eyes, lit up from within and looking down at the two boys before it; painted a sky blue that stared down with a horrifying and unblinking focus in the dark.

" _Man_ this thing has been fussy..." Clyde marveled, unaware of the shadow behind him, peering down at Izzy with a grimace. "We better get a good grade on this..."

"... Clyde..."

Butters' voice had gotten very small. The shadow advanced, looming behind the other boy as Izzy's cry got even louder- a screeching squall that threatened to burst eardrums with its volume.

" _Hey there little rock stars!"_ A prerecorded, friendly, male voice called out in the dark. _"This isn't where the party's at-"_

Something happened. Two somethings, that might have been the same something. All at once, the crying stopped. Izzy went from an eleven on the volume scale to a zero, silent and still. At the same time, some kind of electrical _fuzz_ took over the animatronic's voice track, sounding like the noise old TVs made on empty channels- loud and violent static. Whatever it had been saying, it was interrupted.

The shadow shifted. The head of the monster in the dark jerked violently to one side, as if his puppeteer had gone rogue. The eyes flashed out, an electrical _snap_ accompanying the malfunction, before they lit up once more. They appeared the same shade of blue, but something was... _different._

 _Alive._

" _At- at- at- at- the party's a-a-a-t-t-t-t-HZZZZKKKK"_

Jolting, over and over, a strange motion of the head independent of the body, almost like a dog trying to shake water from its ears but in a manner that suggested a broken neck. Butters stared on in horror, and Clyde had finally turned around to look, stepping back himself as he realized how close he'd been to the unnerving shape.

The lights behind the eyes went dark again. It became pure shadow, blissfully silent and terribly still.

" _... it's time for a different kind of party, now."_

The voice had changed.

* * *

Heidi... had not had a _terrible_ weekend.

Not as bad as she'd expected, anyhow.

Going to Eric's place had been something that made her sick to her stomach, but not for the reasons most people expected, or even the reasons she herself would give if asked. Most people, she figured, would have sympathy for her because of how toxic their relationship had gotten while it was going on- in both directions. What he did to her, and what she did to him; there was _pain_ and _shame_ in those things, but they weren't the first things to mind when she'd been standing on his doorstep on Saturday morning.

No, she'd been remembering what it had been like to be an excited kid, visiting her beloved boyfriend at home. She remembered the good times, snuggled up on the couch, giggling over little things that she _wished_ she didn't remember, and _hated_ herself for smiling about upon memory.

That was the worst part about what happened between them. She remembered when it had been good. When it had been the _best thing._

She had to force herself to remember the bad shit. Painstakingly walk through the gory details of how it all fell apart, the monsters they'd both become, and the way they'd clawed into each other over time. The late nights, the phone calls, the suicide threats, the _manipulation_ and the _victimizing-_ the things that _wanted_ to fade into the memory fog, to drop off of her brain and insist they weren't really the most important thing. Everyone fought, right? Nobody's perfect, right? No one communicates 100 percent healthy all of the time, _right?_

She had to make herself face those things, without excuses. It felt like self-harm, just without the razor blade- but it was self preservation. It was only keeping that shit center stage that prevented her from caving in after they broke up- after she realized she couldn't play the victim anymore, and walked away.

Forcing herself to face the ugly side of things was how she'd done everything since then. Getting fit again had been an act of revenge upon her own body's bloated shape, and joining track over volleyball and cheer had been her rebellion against the popular girls and their focus on team sports. Track was a mostly individual sport- her performance was her own; no one to blame, no one to fall back on. Just her, and not the people who fucking bailed on her for picking an unpopular boyfriend... and shamed her when she tried to dig herself back out of it. _Self reliance_ had been the order of the day for _years,_ needing nothing and no one, so she'd never be the victim.

No one could _make_ her be the victim if there was no one around to be her oppressor, after all. Not even her.

Standing on that doorstep again, it made everything she'd done feel very fragile. Like the simple act of knocking would make it all crack into pieces.

She did it anyway. With Daisy, her baby doll from health class strapped to her chest, she did what was requested of her by Kenny and Dee and knocked on Eric Cartman's door for the first time in years.

Things had started off on a weird note; Eric was grounded for breaking the TV with a spoon. His mother wouldn't budge on the grounding, but eventually agreed to let Heidi hang out at the house, since they were paired up from a school project- it technically made the time they were spending together _homework._ Eric was so _excited_ about it, too- holding Daisy like she was an actual baby and not just a plastic doll, and displaying a surprising amount of care in the way he handled her.

She was waiting for the suspicion. The reproach. She was waiting for the moment when he'd snap her a cold look and demand to know why she'd shown up after threatening to break his legs if he came anywhere near her.

It never happened. They did actual homework together, traded off looking after Daisy's needs, watched YouTube vids on his computer, ate snacks made by his mom- she tried to keep the conversation away from anything personal, choosing to speak to him only if it concerned school work... but he seemed to get that signal, and did the same.

Was he being shy? … or was he _playing her?_ Trying to _trick_ her into breaking first, into _apologizing_ for threatening him when she wasn't sorry in the slightest? She couldn't tell.

It scared her that she couldn't tell.

Saturday night, she'd gone home to her house. She let him keep Daisy overnight, assured that he'd look after her for the good of their grade... and she let him have it. Phone numbers were exchanged, in case of emergency- they'd both gotten new ones since the old days, and she'd blocked him on that phone after the breakup. The moment she was away from him, she was questioning herself, her _sanity,_ in giving him access to her like that. She was certain the moment she laid down, the moment she took time to herself that night, her phone was going to blow up with some kind of emergency, or just unwanted affection.

Her phone was silent. Not a single message rattled a vibrating alert against her end table as she laid in bed.

The silence was the sound of dread and loneliness in harmony. Her thoughts wandered between _thank god_ and _did he change? Did I change?_

 _Could we try again?_

Sunday morning, she messaged him, asking if she could come hang out again.

He said yes. She walked right over.

There wasn't any more work to do- they'd already gotten it done the day before. Today was just... to hang out.

"Hey... Heidi... can we... _talk?"_

 _Here we go._

The question, slow and faltering, had come sometime after lunch. It was snowing outside; she could see through the windows from the living room. She was set up on the couch, he sat down on the floor, idly petting Mister Kitty, who had become a more snuggle-prone cat as he'd gotten older. She had Daisy cradled against herself, the doll apparently in _sleep_ mode, seeing as she'd been quiet for the better part of an hour.

"What's up?" She asked, trying not to let the tension show. The last thing she needed to do right now was give him a _tell._

"I.. I've just been _thinkin'."_ Eric admitted. "A lot. Maybe too much? I donno. I just..."

There was a hesitation. Some part of her suspected it was an attempt at baiting her into a reaction, some show of interest... But there was a much bigger part of her wrapped up in the possibilities of what he might say, and that part had gotten her to hold her breath whilst waiting for him to go on.

" _I miss-"_

Whatever his confession was, it was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. A _frantic_ knock in fact, the strikes sharp, fast, and loud. It was the sort of things that couldn't be ignored and talked over, and effectively shattered the quiet moment they'd been having. Heidi watched as Eric's face twisted, but not in _outrage_ like she'd been expecting, or possibly even hoping for- hoping for _some reminder_ of his bad side after the time they'd been spending together. No, the twist was into something bittersweet, before it was smoothed out with a regretful sigh.

"Eh-heh... hold that thought?" He requested, forcing himself up off of the floor to answer the door- another change she noticed, from the way he'd frequently scream at his mother to come answer the door, even when she was in other parts of the house.

 _He's just acting. He's always acting._

That angry voice just kept getting smaller.

The knocking kept on, as if the knocker feared being ignored. Eric pulled the door open... to reveal Kyle.

Heidi felt a jolt run through her. Some sense of dejavu was hitting her in the worst possible way. She sat upright on the couch.

" _Kahl?"_ Eric slipped into one of his _many_ mispronunciations of Kyle's name before clearing his throat and trying again. " _Kyle?_ What are you doing here?"

Kyle peered into the house with frantic hazel eyes. He and Heidi caught each other, and she immediately got the sense that something was _terribly wrong-_ or was about to go that way. Why else would he be here, out-of-breath and reddened in the face by the cold outdoor wind?

She caught something else in that look- _an apology._

 _ **Oh, fuck my life.**_

"Dee lied to you." Kyle stated in the door, without preamble or preparation. The statement was blunt, like a golf-club to the face. Eric even took a step back, as if he'd been struck, before letting off a befuddled and confused laugh.

"What... what are you talking about, Kyle? Dee did his best, it's water under the bridge. _I've got company,_ I'm fine."

 _There. There it was!_ That _edge!_ That _tone_ Eric picked up, a tension in his voice when things weren't going his way and he was starting to get upset. The way he stressed that _she_ was here, and _that he was okay-_ if not for Kenny and Dee explaining things to her, she'd have no idea what Kyle was talking about... but she did. She knew all about the rigged drawing, and that Dee had swayed it to Kenny's little sister instead of Eric, so a little girl could have a birthday party.

Something must have gone wrong with that plan, because was here doing the one thing that would blow it up.

"He rigged the drawing for Kenny's little sister. I've got the whole group chat on my phone. I can show you everything."

 _Tension._ It gathered around Eric like a cloud, rising up through his shoulders, and turning his knuckles white where he gripped the door. Then, with a long inhale and a longer exhale, those tells relaxed back down. _He was trying to handle it._

"I don't care. Heidi's here, and I'm beyond getting angry about _Douchebag_ being _Douchebag._ I'm being the bigger person this time."

"He talked to Heidi, too."

 _That_ begot a jolt. Buried rage was trying to surge up like a volcanic eruption.

Heidi was beginning to guess how it was Eric's TV got broken... and it involved him being _so not over it_ he had a _fit._

"Stop trying to _bullshit_ me Kyle, you're just here because you're _jealous_ again- well _it's not like that!_ Heidi and I are just hanging out, and you're just gonna have to deal with the fact that _we're both more mature than you_ and can _move the hell on and still be friends!"_

"Dee and Kenny begged her to come hang out with you over the weekend so you wouldn't ruin the party." Kyle continued, his tone even. He hadn't raised his voice, or given any inflection at all. His tone was flat, and brokered no argument... despite Eric trying to disprove him at every turn.

 _He's putting words in my mouth- I haven't agreed to be friends. Or anything else._

The angry voice was getting louder again.

Heidi was up from the couch, approaching the boys at the door. Eric was glancing back at her, uncertain and bubbling with overwhelming emotion just beneath the surface.

"Kyle, what's going on? Why are you trying to piss him off?" She demanded.

"I'm just telling him the truth." Kyle stated, same as all his other statements. "A guy deserves that from his friends- to know that they all conspired to cut him out of a pizza party that was his idea, and then arranged a distraction to keep him from crashing it."

Standing next to him, Heidi could feel Eric to a degree. He was shaking. More so, he'd turned to look at her with wide eyes.

 _Those big, baby blue eyes._

" _Nope."_

A single word shocked both boys. Heidi pushed Kyle out of the way; she didn't care that her jacket was elsewhere in Eric's house, or that she was leaving some of the alternate baby clothes she had for Daisy behind. She didn't care about anything- if Kyle and Eric were going at it again? _She was not playing that game._ _ **No way in hell.**_

"Heidi? _HEIDI!?"_

She didn't look back.

She'd cry when she got home.

* * *

 _ **::The Author's Corner::**_

Aaaaaaaaand just in case we needed some _drama_ to go with everything else...

Also toxic relationships suck and if you've never been in one count your lucky fucking stars.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	25. Kenny's Haunted Senses are Tingling

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Kenny's Haunted Senses are Tingling::**

Kenny had never really gotten the appeal of the animatronic band that became a craze in the 90's with places like Chuck E. Cheese, where obviously fake characters played obviously per-recorded music and jankily 'danced' on stage... a performance that was put on despite their feet never moving as their hands groped at over sized instruments. He supposed this place was a little different, with an obvious _80's rock_ theme going on with the costumes; what with all the leather and rhinestones, but that appeal to _throw-back cool_ still didn't make the concept work for him.

Didn't matter. Karen seemed to like it, cheering for the band as if it were made up of flesh and blood players while her and her friends chowed down on greasy pizza, served by the same dweeb who used to work at the movie theater all the time a few years ago. The guy appeared briefly to lay out the food that came with the party, and then disappeared back to the kitchen with a sneer on his zit-ridden face that also found the fakeness of the band unimpressive.

It didn't help that one of the robots wasn't a robot- the Sneaker character still had a man inside the costume, great black holes where the animatronic eyes should have been throwing off the entire aesthetic a bit. He moved differently than the others, too; too human, too smooth, miming at being the lead singer when it was all a prerecorded track... the machine that was supposed to run the real Sneaker mascot must have been broken or something.

Not long before the band finished its set, Clyde suddenly excused himself from the knot of older kids that had formed a distance away from the stage, choosing to stand and cluster near the prize counter rather than spread out. Kenny couldn't quite explain it, but something felt... _off._ Maybe his experiences with things in South Park going terribly wrong was making him paranoid, but there was something _wrong_ with this building, tickling a sense of being _boxed in_ even though he knew exactly where the exit was. He couldn't put his finger on it, and tried to shrug it off as the animatronic band finished its last song and, instead of simply having a curtain close on the machines, they moved freely from the stage and began to mingle. Scratcher, the cat mascot, went straight to the cluster of Karen and her friends, and Kenny overheard the robot spouting out a recorded and over-enthusiastic line about loving pizza before asking if anyone wanted to visit the arcade. Sniffer, the dog bot, seemed as if he were coming for the big kids at first before he suddenly turned, heading towards the entrance and the padded play-area on the other end of the building. Maybe they were programmed to check every zone for kids running around? Or keep little ones from wandering out the front door? Spike, the hedgehog, remained on stage for the time being, occupying the seat of a drummer and putting out a very _too cool for school_ vibe... though Kenny bet the bot would interact with any kid who went up to visit him.

Finally, there was Sneaker, who _did_ approach the knot of older kids.

Not for the first time, Kenny noticed that the mascot suit smelled... well, _terrible-_ like _month old jizzrag that had never been washed_ terrible. _Somebody bombed the sperm-bank and no one cleaned it up_ terrible... and maybe something else? Something artificial- probably the plastics involved in making the faux fur. It smelled the way he always assumed furry suits smelled, not that he'd ever been in direct contact with one.

He felt just a little bad for the guy wearing it- he had to be surrounded by that reek for hours at a time while doing his job.

" _Hello, children!"_ The man inside the costume greeted jovially, waving both his hands to keep the energy up while, in absence of the band, a back-track took over via the PA system in the building, playing second fiddle of the sound of arcade machines at the far end of the dining area. "Is everybody who's gonna be coming to the party here? Are we waiting for anyone?" He asked, leaning down to be closer to head level with the preteen gaggle he was speaking to, but also ending up intruding into it by way of his giant mascot head. Alyssa had to duck slightly to the side to avoid getting beaned, Craig and Tweek parting to the other side.

Their baby was going off- screaming bloody murder as Craig fumbled with it, trying to figure out why it was crying _this time._

Kenny ended up glancing around. Stan, Kyle, Wendy, Butters- four people he'd expected to come, but it appeared they weren't going to make it.

 _Maybe they got caught up in something important. Something obviously happened to Alyssa last night; maybe the others took over that stuff so she could spend today with me._

" _Yeah."_ He answered through his hood, bobbing his head a little. _"This is all of us."_

" _Wonderful!"_ Sneaker cheered, throwing his hands up into the air as he popped back to full height. "I'll get started preparing the _main event!_ Make sure you enjoy the arcade and eat some pizza while it's still hot~!"

 _Main event?_ Kenny had no idea what the guy was talking about, but there might have been something else to the birthday package; maybe the place provided cake and sang the song. It wasn't like _he'd_ ever had a party at one of these places. Whistlin' Willie's was the closest kind of thing South Park had had for that before, and his family... yeah, they were too poor to be booking birthday parties with all the fixings. Even at Willie's.

That's what made this so special.

As Sneaker departed their company, he looked up again to find that Karen's group had run off to the arcade machines without delay, leaving only Henrietta where they'd been before. The girl hadn't adhered herself to the rest of the people her age, instead sticking closer to Karen before... and now separated out to be by herself and openly smoking, ashing her cigarette on to the cheap plastic table coverings without remorse.

"What the hell?" Craig questioned. "He starts crying, and then stops for no reason? What the heck is _wrong_ with this thing?"

Kenny's attention got dragged back. Craig and Tweek were still attending to their baby, which had gone quiet... just as Sneaker left them, he noticed.

"Maybe it's simulating how kids cry for _n-no_ reason sometimes?" Tweek posited, displaying his characteristic twitchiness while briefly relieving his boyfriend of his burden, holding the baby and bobbing it lightly. "It's crazy how little instruction we got before this- _it's too much pressure!_ Having to figure it out- all on our own- _ugh!"_

"Breathe, babe, it'll be fine... you okay holding him for a minute?"

"Y- _yeah,_ I got him."

That was weird. Kenny remembered his doll, Chuck, being like that- when he and Alyssa had been at the mall, his baby had cried like no tomorrow when Sneaker had been around, and suddenly stopped when he left. Kyle's doll, too, when they'd visited the day before, had lost its shit the moment they stepped inside... but it hadn't stopped when they left. It had stopped when he'd been next to one of the animatronics, Scratcher... was it just a weird coincidence?

 _I've lived in this town too fucking long for coincidences... something's off..._

" _C'mon, let's go play some games!"_ Kenny suddenly cried out, punching his hands up in the air, nearly making Tweek jump out of his skin and clutching his baby to his chest.

" _Finally."_ Kevin, the tallest person in among them, who had been an otherwise silent pillar of teen disinterest, got moving without further encouragement. "I'm gonna go see if I can scam the claw machine or somethin'."

"Low hanging fruit." Craig chastised, following after, Tweek falling in line with him. "Brand new machines means no high scores- we can write whatever we want on the leader-boards before assholes fill it up with stupid crap."

"Like 'TIT' and 'ASS'?" Token questioned, falling in line. "What are you gonna write? What else fits in three letters?"

"I was thinking messing with the capitalization or something, make it a _little_ more interesting..."

The conversation faded away as Kenny lagged behind, letting the group leave without him. It wasn't unlike what he'd done outside to get a moment alone with Alyssa... _speaking of..._

She was still next to him, having not made a move to head out with the others. She'd been entirely still since she moved out of Sneaker's way, hands in her pockets, shoulders slouched, and the red tuft of bangs that always escaped her had obscuring her eyes a bit. She was being _incredibly_ still, not even looking at him...

He bent over slightly, peering at her... her eyes were almost completely closed, face lax. Curious, he poked her shoulder.

The reaction to being touched was sudden; she started and skipped back and away from the contact, head rising up and wide eyes glancing this way and that before she realized that the group was gone and they were alone. She blinked a few times, lips pursing before she finally made eye contact with him and served him a _glare._

" _Dude, did you fall asleep on your feet?"_ Kenny almost laughed behind his scarf, tugging the muffling bit of fabric down and unsnapping the top button of the three that held his hood closed over his face. It was _warm_ in here. "You... _really_ didn't get any sleep last night, huh?"

She hadn't been sleeping well for a while, not that she'd ever complain about it... didn't matter, he knew the tells.

She shrugged, rubbing her face with her hands and shaking herself before looking up at him with a slightly cocked head, expressing confusion.

"Something feels off... I wanna walk around the whole place before we go hang with the others. You up for that?"

She blinked at him, slow and deliberate, lips tightening as eyebrows rose over tired eyes.

"Don't gimmie that look, I just wanna make sure- I promise I won't be Casa Bonita all over again, I didn't even bring my costume."

"Oh man, now that's a years-old train wreck if I remember one."

Heads twisted over to the side; Henrietta had joined them, still casually smoking and now sipping from a screw-top thermos that smelled of black coffee.

"Do you guys still play _Dungeons and Douchebags?"_ She asked pointedly. "I figured you two would age out of that by now... let the younger generation of posers take on the make believe stuff and finally accept the soul-crushing burden that is the real world."

"Nice to see you too, Henrietta." Kenny smirked; it was the usual amount of deadpan sass he expected from her. "Something just feels... _weird._ I wanna look around. Wanna come with us?"

"Doesn't _he_ usually pick who's in the party?" Henrietta pointed out, gesturing her cigarette at Alyssa. "I mean, if we're going for _good old bad days_ rules."

Alyssa seemed to miss the joke for a few, and then rolled her eyes, blowing at the tip of Henrietta's cigarette to make the smoke coil away from her- a mute version of a sarcastic _ha-ha._

"There's only three of us." Kenny countered with a smirk. "We all get defaulted in- limit is four."

"You look as dead as I wish I was." Henrietta commented to Alyssa, looking at her for a bit longer after bringing her cigarette back for a drag. "... want some coffee?"

 _That_ was... weird. Henrietta wasn't usually the _sharing_ type, but... then again, if Kenny remembered properly, Alyssa _had_ brokered peace with the goth kids on multiple occasions. Maybe she still held status as an honorary goth. Either way, she accepted the offer, and Henrietta turned her attention back to Kenny while blowing out smoke.

"Something _does_ feel off, here, but it's not the building." Henrietta agreed. "You steep yourself in the darkness as much as I have, and you get a feeling for it. _Misery loves company_ isn't just a dumb saying for soccer moms to stitch into their pastel wine cozies; darkness attracts darkness, and there's something hellish here that's polishing it's fucking Tinder profile for a satanic hookup."

"Sounds like the kind of thing you'd usually swipe right on."

" _Usually?"_ Henrietta shrugged. "Yeah, I'd be down, _but..."_ Her eyes drifted towards the arcade, where the rest of the party had located itself to spend the tokens that came with Karen's prize package. "Special K probably isn't, and today is about her- this place can turn into a demon orgy on some other night."

" _Demon orgy?"_ Kenny demanded- was what Henrietta was getting really _that_ severe? ... and did he qualify for an invitation, seeing as he wasn't _technically_ a mortal soul?

"Figure of speech, keep your big-boy pants on." Henrietta assured as Alyssa handed the coffee thermos back. She held it out to Kenny, who waved to refuse. Taking a final swig herself, she screwed it shut and tucked it back in her shoulder slung messenger bag. "I'm not sure what it is, just pissed off. Probably not _actually_ from hell, or someone would have died a violent death by now."

Near the entry of the building, someone let out a scream. It was muffled, enough so that Kenny was pretty sure no one in the loud and distant arcade area would be able to hear it... but he and his little group certainly _did,_ and it sounded like someone screaming in terror.

"... _then again..."_

" _C'mon!"_ Kenny demanded, taking off to investigate.

* * *

The scream had come from the coat room. Dee had dug in to sprint as Kenny urged the three of them to move, and Henrietta actually showed that she _did_ have the capacity to run when the situation called for it.

Getting her knees up and throwing herself into a sprint across the dining area finally finished the job of waking her up after she'd dozed through the majority of her day; nothing like a jolt of _oh fuck what now_ for chronic exhaustion.

Arrival in the entryway revealed something key that hadn't been visible from the dining area; there wasn't any natural light coming in from the outside anymore. Early afternoon light should have been coming through the glass... but someone had pulled an opaque shutter down, the sort that would block the building's doors when it was closed for the day.

 _No time!_

A skidding turn and a shuffling stop brought Dee to peer into the coat room, arriving ahead of Kenny by only a split second and not entirely sure to make of what she saw. Without light from the entry way this room was even darker still, muddling everything in shadows. Her eyes didn't pick up anything right away, blinking in the inky black, but able to _hear_ the fact that something _big_ was lurching around, like a clumsy bear trying to keep balance and _thumping_ about.

"Let 'em _go!"_

A voice cried out of the darkness, possibly the one that screamed before... and Dee recognized it. _Butters!_

Instinct kicked in, and fortunate for them, _she'd had her medicine today._

Not so fortunate for their noses.

Diving out of the entryway once the clock was stopped, Dee knew by feeling exactly how much time she had. Surrounded by the dim, she was able to make out shapes; something massive towered over her, a shadow that she had to duck around. Beyond it- Butters! There he was, looking... mid-lunge? She turned around, to look at the hulking shadow again, but from this side there was more to it. A pair of eyes sat at the near top of the shape, glowing from within and painted blue, with... an awareness in them. _It was one of the animatronics-_ which one had blue eyes? She didn't remember, nor care; the machine wasn't lunging at Butters or looked to be on an attack of any kind, and that was because it already had someone in its grasp.

Clyde. The big boy had been lifted up into one of the animatronic's arms, held as if he were no heavier than a toy. She couldn't see the look on his face, but she recognized his general shape and build in the dark. One of his hands was trying to wrench free of the robot, the other reaching out after... their baby doll, Izzy; she'd forgotten Clyde had taken it from her. The animatronic had it, grasped in its other hand, looking to be ripping it away from Clyde.

No more than a second could be spent on assessment. She needed to act. Glancing left and right, she selected someone's hung-up jacket from one of the hangers and slung it around the robotic arm that was pulling Izzy away from Clyde, digging her heels in to pull hard and try and tip the animatronic over. She was surprised to find the thing was _fucking heavy,_ a shot of panic running through her that the idea was no good and she had wasted a stop... but she couldn't allow herself to quit.

No, instead she dug in further, gritting her teeth and letting out a guttural sound as her body tipped backwards, trying to just get the fucking thing to shift backwards and mess up its balance- enough to give Kenny an opening when the clock started ticking again.

She felt it give, tipping her way. Her heels slipped out from under her as she tipped further as a result, falling on her ass with an _oof_ and quickly rolling to one side... only to be reminded that the laws of physics were weird when time was stopped. She'd gotten the robot to tip, but it appeared it wouldn't _fall_ just yet... and she had a few seconds left.

Scrambling to her feet, she went for Izzy, plucking the baby doll out of the machine's faux furred hand and tucking it against her chest.

All at once, she was back in the entryway, briefly choking on the pungent reek of her own gasses while reaching out for Kenny to shove him into the room with her free hand.

" _Oh fuck- what the?!"_

Kenny half-tripped when pushed, knowing something had just gone done by the smell, but getting most startled by the sudden _crash_ of the robot falling down. In the dark room, Clyde cried out.

" _Help! It's got me!"_

Dee turned slightly; Henrietta had arrived as Kenny disappeared into the dark, but there wasn't any time to explain in mute gestures or otherwise. She shoved the baby doll at the goth girl, took no time to gauge her reaction, and immediately dove back in to follow after Kenny.

The robot was on the ground, moving to get up with clumsy and jerky movements. A hand got thrown out this way, a leg that, a twist here, a turn there. She saw as its shadowed bulk discarded Clyde, but in a motion she didn't expect possible for the machine, _flinging_ the boy away from itself. He hit the wall with a _thud,_ crying out with the impact.

Butters had landed on the thing with his flying lunge, cast over the torso of it now and hanging on as it tried to remaster its balance and return to being upright. Kenny had seized one of its upraised arms, trying to yank it back down to the floor and letting out a yell. As a result, the thing was mostly on the ground but with its head slightly upraised from the floor.

Dee wound up and kicked up at its head from behind, imagining it being like punting a football. The impact was solid, and she heard plastic parts snap as the shape of the head was damaged. With her eyes acclimating to the darkness, she could finally identify the animatronic; it was the dog-like one, Sniffer.

Its head twisted around when her kick cracked the casing, doing a near one-eighty to do so. She must have fucked up one of the mounting anchors, because the affable mask was no longer centered over the internally lit eyes, creating dark gaps between the loose-rattling head piece and the gaze within. The twist of its head startled her, and she stumbled back as the arm Kenny had been clinging to was thrown upwards and around, the boy himself getting tossed like a rag-doll and, like Clyde, getting _launched_ into one of the nearby walls before the hand came down and made solid contact. The motion was a twist that took over the rest of the body, the torso spinning about and sending Butters rolling off with a yelp, then the hips, the legs, and finally all four limbs arranging beneath the robotic dog before it hefted itself upright once more.

Its eyes did not break from staring at Dee the entire time. They leered at her, and made her certain it could actually see her. That it knew she'd just tried to hurt it.

A crackling came from within the head piece, distorted and ugly. Then, from the fuzz, words became intelligible.

" _It- it- it's time for the PaRTy to begin!"_

The words were garbled, like the cheerful prerecorded voice had been sent through a meat grinder to re-shape whatever came out into new sentences. Upright, its hands came upwards, open and appearing ready to seize upon Dee the same way it had snatched up Clyde.

" _Where is- ere is- where's the- where's my- my- WhErE's mY – B-b-b-b-aby b-b-b-oy- bo- bo-dy?"_

 _Where is my... **what?** Syllables_, broken apart from other words, coming together again. What was it trying to say? What was it asking?

"Hey, machine head- lookin' for this?"

From the doorway, Henrietta's flat voice called out. The robot's eyes shifted, and Dee risked a backwards glance.

She had the baby doll- Izzy, held over her head.

* * *

 _ **::The Author's Corner::**_

HOLY HELLO IT'S A CHAPTER!

I'm not even gonna apologize. Life is life. Y'all know the speech by now. I hope you're enjoying the story, as always I can always use words of encouragement, they really DO help with motivation, even the littlest things.

ONWARDS!

-Buttlord


	26. Hot Potato

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak- Hot Potato::**

" _WHAT THE **FUCK,** KEYL?!" _

" _Get off me, you fucking fatass!"_

Heidi walking out had been something that stunned Eric for several seconds, at first only able to call after her in shock... but given time, that shock evolved into rage, and turned upon the lanky ginger jew on his doorstep.

This whole weekend had been like a fairy tale; Heidi coming over had been a magic spell cast on his weekend, taking all the shit away. He didn't _care_ what the price had been to get it, who lied to him or why; what mattered was that she'd been here, talking to him again.

 _Now she was gone._

Eric threw himself at Kyle, knocking the other boy off his doorstep and into the fresh snow, roaring out and balling up his fists to pummel his face. Kyle folded his forearms against his face to protect himself, kicking and trying to squirm away.

" _You couldn't take it, could you? You couldn't just let me have this! You_ _ **greedy, manipulative, backstabbing JEW!"**_

" _I SAID GET THE FUCK OFF ME, CARTMAN!"_

Kyle abandoned defense, throwing a fist out and catching Eric across the face. It _hurt,_ but didn't have enough impact to actually dislodge him... and gave him an opening to hit Kyle back.

" _NO! You've taken away my happiness for the last fucking time, you sack of shit!"_

" _ERIC THEODORE CARTMAN!"_

There were few things that had the impact of getting middle-named by one's mother. Despite being verbal, it always felt like something physically _thwapped_ him over the head whenever his mom did it. Eric jolted and hastily rolled to the side to let Kyle up, settling with his butt in the snow.

It was only at this moment that he realized his face was wet and he couldn't breathe. He'd been crying. Cloudy eyes had to blink multiple times before he could see his mom properly, standing in the open doorway of the house with her hands on her hips.

"You are _grounded_ young man!" His mother asserted, glaring down at him and Kyle. "What exactly is it that you boys think you're _doing?!"_

"He- _he made Heidi go away!"_

It was nearly reflexive. Eric started bawling, pointing an accusing finger at Kyle and _wailing_ his damage to the sky.

"I came here to _tell you the truth!"_ Kyle hurriedly defended himself, managing to sit up from where he'd been knocked back, re-securing his hat from its slightly askew placement. "Did you really wanna get back with her on a _lie?"_

" _Maaaaaam, Kyle said- Kyle said **bad things** to Heidi about me-e-e-eeee!" _

It didn't matter what was truth or lies right now. He needed his mother on his side so he didn't get in even worse trouble than he already was this weekend; and he knew _exactly_ how to pull that act.

"... Jesus dude, how old are you, _five?"_

"Kyle Broflovski!" His mother barked, looking like she was in no mood to be trifled with. She had come out of the doorway now, attending to her son and helping him up out of the snow. "Do I need to call your _mother_ about this?"

"No, Ma'am!" Kyle quickly responded.

 _That's right you fucker._

"Good." She stated in a tone that was both motherly and _threatening._ "I know my little sweetie can fly off the handle, so why don't you go home and give him some space?"

"B-But..."

" _Now."_

There was a pause. Eric threw himself entirely to sobbing in his mother's arms, hamming it up while hugging the woman for all he was worth... while calculating exactly what he'd do as revenge. It would need to be something fitting, but also clever enough that it would fly under Heidi's radar- she _had_ given him a chance, _listened_ to him again. He'd need to be sneaky as not to destroy this new hope beyond what Kyle had already done to it.

"Yes, Miss Cartman." Kyle capitulated. "Just... Cartman; I didn't do this to you. _Dee did._ It should be between you guys. I just told you the _truth_."

" _Maaaaaaaaam!"_

Eric redoubled his wailing, clutching at his mom's torso and burying his head against her sweater. He figured his mother was giving Kyle a _look,_ because the next he heard was; "Fine! I'm going, I'm going!"

* * *

There was a split second of stunned silence as Henrietta held the plastic doll on high in a manner that possibly evoked visions of _The Lion King_ , demanding the attention of the Sniffer animatronic before it did... _whatever_ it was going to do to Dee. It was like one of her time stops, where everything was quiet and still... and without the olfactory assault that usually came with it.

Of course, the clock was not actually stopped, and that beat of silence was shattered with a shrill cry from the machine as it blew past Dee, a large faux-fur covered hand shoving her aside as its broken and fuzzy voice screamed out _"Mi-II-ii-N-e-E- MI-ne- MINE!"_

Dee stumbled, keeping her footing and keeping her eyes on Henrietta- what the hell was she _thinking?_

The two made eye contact. Dee wished she knew Henrietta well enough to have half a clue what she was thinking, but catching each other for the span of a frantic heartbeat seemed to be all Henrietta needed to decide on the next step in whatever her plan was.

Specifically, she turned and _chucked the doll_ before Sniffer made it to her, ducking down as the dog-like robot dove past the goth chick and into the entryway, doubtlessly to go after Izzy.

" _GO GET IT!"_ Henrietta shouted, turning out to be able to project her voice with an impressive amount of volume despite her usually quiet and deadpan state. Thing was, Dee realized, the command was not a taunt for the robot. Nope, red contacted eyes were still staring at _her,_ telling _her_ to go get it.

 _Tit-swinging bitch, you pick this up fast, huh?_

Dee got it- the question was... did she have enough gas worked up to pull off another freeze so soon? The only way to know was to try, to work it up and-

 _Yes!_

There was a pang of sympathy for everyone in the coat room; the cloud she'd laid at the doorway hadn't exactly dissipated, and dropping another one in a small space was downright cruel... but nessesary. Henrietta had thrown that doll to get Sniffer _out_ of that tiny room and give the others a chance to escape the space rather than be cornered. Now it was her turn to retrieve it and... well, she'd figure that out in a second.

About thirty seconds- that's what she had before time started moving again.

Dashing out of the coat area, she saw that Henrietta had lobbed Izzy towards the dining area with the stage... which was, to a degree, also towards the arcade, and _Karen._ That was not a good way to run; that was the _last_ place they wanted this haywire fucker going. Speaking of, Sniffer was just ahead of her, running full-tilt after the baby-doll... which was still mid-air, yet to hit the ground. Dee dashed to it, snatching up the doll and shrugging off her flannel over-shirt to wrap the thing in. Down to her blue T-shirt with the star on the chest, she used the oversized button-up as a way to swaddle the doll and then, using the sleeves, tie it to her person so she could carry hands-free.

She had an idea, and she'd need to keep maneuverable. In a few more seconds she was going to snap back to her previous location, and then she'd need to _run_ somewhere to distract Sniffer away from the arcade area... but also somewhere where the _mechanical rug-muncher_ couldn't easily follow her.

The answer was obvious.

Time resumed. Dee was back where she'd begun, standing in the coat area, up one swaddled baby-doll, and down one heavy set of boots.

She didn't need them where she was going.

"Talk about _brimstone- hey!"_

Whatever comment Henrietta had been making about the smell, Dee didn't hang around to hear it. She was sprinting over the ground she'd just covered, bursting out in time to see Sniffer at the edge of the dining room and looking quite, quite confused. His head, flopping this way and that around the endoskeleton within and sporting a cracked _dent_ in the back where she'd kicked it, was frantically looking about for the doll that was no longer in its path.

In its place, on the floor, were Dee's boots; exactly where she'd ditched them in the last seconds she'd had during the freeze.

Putting two fingers in her mouth, Dee projected a sharp whistle to get the thing's attention. Its head snapped about in an instant, head-piece dipping forward and making it look as if the eyes within were _glaring_ at her.

No doubt it saw she had the doll now.

 _Come and get me you mechanically engineered sack of pig testicles._

She flipped it the bird, for good measure... before taking off towards the other area the main entryway had access to- the indoor playground; full of slides, tubes, enclosed plastic boxes for kids to climb within and between... a veritable _maze._ A maze with loads of blind spots, alternate pathways, choke points, and hiding places.

A maze made for tiny, tiny bodies.

Not big bulky ones.

* * *

 _Oh goodie... I'm not dead._

There had been a horrifying moment where Kenny had been certain he was about to break his neck. The robot had _flung_ him with all the force of a rodeo bull, directly into a cinder-block wall. That kind of force, the moment of weightless flight, and the hard _thud_ of his own body making impact were familiar things, things that usually happened right before he woke up back at home the next day... but today he'd been lucky enough not to take the impact on his head or neck. The first part of him to hit was his shoulders, followed by the rest of his back, before his head snapped back and hit.

The force wasn't deadly, but _man_ his bells were rung. He hit the floor clutching his skull and coughing for air, fighting seized lungs as the wind got knocked out of him. He'd shifted to his knees and one hand on the floor, trying to get his footing as the animatronic bore down on Alyssa. He had meant to shout out for her, but he didn't have the breath to do much more than _wheeze_ while his lack of balance bowled him over and left him as a heap on the cheaply carpeted floor.

 _Not dead, just concussed. Fuck my life._

He didn't give up; he couldn't. He'd rolled himself back to the wall by the time Alyssa pulled a second time freeze in under a minute _[a new record for her, he was pretty sure]._ It was hard to see, but he was certain something had changed in that instant that he'd experienced in regular time. Dee took off running after that, but her footfalls weren't the heavy thuds they usually were- _had she lost her boots?_

She was gone by the time he'd finally gotten back to his feet with the help of the wall. Between the dizziness and the _smell,_ he felt like he was gonna be fuckin' sick.

"Are we all alive?" He asked the rest of the room weakly.

"Think so..." Answered back Butters, who was nearby on the floor. He'd been curled into the fetal position; possibly in terror after getting thrown off. Like a smart guy, he'd been protecting his head. "Clyde?"

"Y- _yeah..."_ A sniffle, from the far corner. "Where'd... where'd Dee go? Wha... what was all that about?"

"A pissed off ghost with a revenge boner." Henrietta surmised, still in the doorway. She'd turned to see where Dee went, and her face was tense. "Guys, as much as I'm usually all about the sweet embrace of death, unless we _all_ wanna go to hell tonight, we need to get the fuck outta here."

"Dee...?" Kenny quested, wincing as he peeled himself away from the wall. _Everything_ fucking hurt after a hit like that. He almost wished he'd broken his neck... but if he had, Karen would be trapped in here with a pissed off robot, and that was one of the few thoughts that would give him even more nightmares than the sounds of his own bones snapping.

"Dove into the play area, the robot went after him." Henrietta reported. "It's after the doll right now because it's confused... but I don't think it'll keep that focus for long. The spirit was a mad as a suburban white mom at the mall with bad coupons; it wants a piece of somebody, _bad."_

Calculation; despite the pain in his head, there were priorities that needed to be gotten in order. Everyone needed to get the fuck out of the building as soon as possible; it wasn't _safe-_ and while Alyssa was running distraction right now, who knew how long it would last...? Or if she was even _safe_ in there? The kind of strength that thing had, there was a possibility it would just rip the play area apart like a gay boy's virgin asshole on his first time without lube.

"It's not just that one!"

Kenny's head twisted back. Butters had gotten up, and helped Clyde out of the corner he'd been thrown to, letting the bigger boy lean on him as the pair stepped to the edge of the coat area. Butters still looked scared.

 _When the hell did he get here?_

"What do you mean?" Kenny demanded.

Butters' mouth was open to answer... but he was interrupted. The area they stood in lacked light- Kenny had noticed that someone had closed the shutters when they'd first ran over here. That said, it wasn't pitch dark; there were still the lights within the building itself, providing a dim glow within the coat area and brighter lights elsewhere.

At that moment, all the lights went out. Without windows, the building was plunged into the kind of pitch black Henrietta might have described as her favorite color of despair.

There were multiple screams. Kenny could hear both Butters and Clyde yelp in surprise, as well as cries from across the building as music and otherwise all cut out with the lights.

The timing was too perfect. _Outage_ wasn't the word that came to mind. No, Kenny had gut feelings about these sorts of things, and his gut told him right away that this wasn't an outage.

No, he knew right away that it was deliberate.

 _The power had been **cut.**_

* * *

 **:: The Author's Corner::**

HEY FRIENDS

ABOUT THAT RISING ACTION

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	27. Party's Over

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Party's Over::**

The arcade was a cacophony of light and sound that Karen viewed with the same awe as one expected at a fourth of July fireworks display. For a moment she'd just stood in the entryway with her friends, mouth open in awe, before letting out a delighted squeal and dashing in to see what games she could play. There were all the main-stays of any arcade that featured prize tickets, like the spinning roulette wheel of lights that never seemed to stop at the right spot, or the game where your play token fell onto a surface with a pusher and you only got tickets when other coins fell off the edge- those were no fun. She'd use up all her tokens in a few minutes if she went for stuff like that, and probably wouldn't have much to show for it. No, she wanted something more interactive, and hopefully with room for more than one player.

Karen and her friends had made the dash over before the older kids, giving them choice of the cooler games; like the simulation type shooter game that had a _huge_ projected screen and plastic guns with an actual bolt to pull back as the reloading action, blasting out action music while some military-type voice shouted out to possible players, or the racing games with the motorcycle-shaped seats that had to be physically tilted left and right to pull off turns in the game, and fans to simulate the wind in one's face. There was even a DDR machine in what appeared to be _brand new condition,_ meaning none of the foot pads would be worn out yet.

Spoiled for choice, it took Karen a few moments before she picked a direction; namely the intact DDR machine. This would probably be her only chance to play it before someone stomped on the buttons too hard and broke it, and she loved the high energy of the music featured in the game. She'd expected to have to fight to get one of her friends to join in, but she found Tricia on the player-two pad before she could even turn around and ask if anyone was up for it.

By the time the older kids had arrived, Karen was a sweaty and exhilarated mess, grinning as Tricia stepped down and announced she was heading for the sporty games against the far wall like hoops and skee-ball. Ike decided he was going with her, which left Dougie as the only one who hung by her as the din in the arcade rose up a few notches.

"Wanna play with me?" She asked him, out of breath and grinning. It didn't even matter that she wasn't playing at a high enough level to earn very many prize tickets; that wasn't the point. It was like putting coins in a jukebox for her own personal dance party... even if she was just following arrows on the screen to blasting K-Pop.

Dougie stared up for a moment, glancing left and right as if someone else might chime in... but he was the only one left. The older kids in Kenny's crowd were leaving them alone, and it appeared Kenny himself wasn't anywhere near-by. Karen idly thought he might have even disappeared with his boyfriend for a little while... or maybe they were just stuffing their faces with pizza now that everyone else had moved on. Either way, she wasn't worried about any of that.

"M-me?" Dougie still asked, pointing to himself shyly.

"Yeah, you!" She waved him up. "C'mon, dance with me!"

He hesitated a moment more before stepping up, looking down when she looked over at him, seeming _very_ concentrated on putting his tokens into the slot to start the game.

Had she embarrassed him? What Henrietta asked earlier had stuck with her- how long Dougie had _liked_ her. The idea seemed silly; she and the others had been hanging out as a group of friends for a couple years, and people had always been _assuming_ that she was going out with Ike or Dougie because they were boys and she was a girl. Similar rumors swam around about Tricia with the guys, with certain girls in their class constantly trying to find out the truth about why their friend group stepped over the gendered lines... but every time it was suggested, they all denied it like it was the dumbest idea in the world. Ike had straight up gone off on people in the middle of class for pressing the issue, and Dougie just wouldn't respond to anyone who got heavy on his case. Tricia, surprise, usually responded by flipping the bird, and Karen had the habit of just politely laughing it off and just saying it wasn't like that.

As far as she knew, it wasn't like that... but what if Dougie _wanted_ it to be like that?

All at once, she felt self-conscious.

"You gonna... put your tokens in?" Dougie asked, finally looking at her. His side was active, the song select appearing on screen to be navigated, the speakers booming out a 10-second snippet of the track under the cursor.

" _Oh!_ Right- _right."_

 _We're just friends. I shouldn't overthink it and make it weird. That would be dumb._

Karen stepped back after putting her tokens in, flashing him one of her usual smiles that just wanted to keep the good times going. "Wanna pick the first song?"

It was meant to be a friendly offer, but he hesitated again. What was she doing wrong? Dougie didn't usually have trouble asserting himself within their group. Had she already made things weird?

 _Did I do something wrong?_

The look on his face changed. Like he wanted to say something, but he was cut off- not but a sudden noise or anything. Instead, it was a sudden _lack-_ the loud room full of music and sounds and lights shutting down to darkness and silence. Karen startled as it happened, clapping her hands over her mouth as an involuntary shrill scream came out of her.

"What the- what happened?!" Dougie questioned; he was right next to her, and yet it was too dark to see him. It was too dark to see _anything._

"D- _Did_ the power go out?!" Another voice shouted out in the dark; one of the older boys; Craig's boyfriend, Tweek.

"Karen!" Tricia's bark came from across the room. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm alright!" Karen shouted back, taking her hands away from her mouth. The dark didn't scare her as much as it did when she'd been little, but the sudden power loss still spooked her. Reaching out blindly, she found the support bar on the back of the dance area, and then reached her other hand out to find Dougie. It took a second, but she eventually landed a hand on him, identified that she'd gotten his arm, and grasped on as not to lose him. "Ike?"

"It's just a power out." Ike called back, sounding annoyed. "Think the place has a backup generator?"

Karen's head twisted around as a light came on. It wasn't any of the lights from the games or the building; instead it was the flashlight function from someone's phone. The bright LED prevented her from seeing the person holding it, but she recognized them by voice; Craig. "If they did, it woulda kicked on by now." He observed flatly. "C'mon, let's go. If something's wrong they'll probably want us out of the building anyway."

Shock was turning to realization, then disappointment. Karen was glad it was dark, because the reality that her party was probably over already was something that made her deflate; like all the energy she liked to carry was stolen out of her.

There was other upset murmuring, the other boys lighting up their phones to see their way through the arcade. Karen didn't move right away. Everything had been fine just a few seconds ago, and now it was gone. It felt like she'd been kicked in the gut. It _hurt,_ and she felt just a little sick... and she felt ugly because of that. Like she was being selfish, and she should have just been happy with what she got.

She didn't want to. She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when something else started to cry instead- the baby doll Craig and Tweek were co-parenting had started to screech and wail, prompting a delay as Craig immediately handed his lit up phone to Tweek to inspect the doll.

" _Again?"_ Craig demanded testily, as if the doll might give him some kind of explanation as to why it was being so fussy. "This project is _so_ lame."

"Hey little rock stars, is everyone alright?"

There was a voice- another one Karen recognized, but it wasn't one of her party guests. No, it was one of the animatronics; the cat one- the only one with a feminine voice, Scratcher. She spoke from the doorway into the dining area, ahead of the group, coming into view as a set of internally lit green eyes. Karen remembered liking those eyes when she was on stage; all the animatronics had very expressive and bright eyes that Karen had found cute and cartoonish... but in the dark, when that was the only part of the robot that was immediately visible until someone turned a light on her? They appeared more unnerving, like a disembodied gaze that floated midair in the inky black- too wide, too attentive, and unblinking.

"It seems like Sneaker's is having some technical difficulties; it might be a while until our next show!" Scratcher continued in her pleasant, prerecorded voice; no doubt the robots were programmed to help in the case of an emergency. All that free-roaming tech would be a bit wasted, otherwise. "Everyone should come sit in the dining hall until the staff can tell us what's wrong. Please watch your step, and no running!"

"Are you guys gonna fix it?"

Karen nearly winced at the whiny quality in her own voice. It was the sort of thing that might have gotten her hit back home, before Mysterion scared their parents out of that specific habit a couple years ago... but it didn't change the fact that she internally kicked herself for saying anything at all.

Scratcher's head shifted towards her at the question. Someone had a light on the robot, making her gaze ever-so-slightly less creepy, and her ears waggled up and down before she answered. "We're going to do our best, birthday girl, as fast as we-"

Scratcher was cut-off. It was hard to see what exactly happened to her in the limited light of beams coming from phones. One second she had been standing there, no doubt playing a _reassurance_ routine coded into her patterns for this kind of situation. The next, Karen had been able to hear foot-steps rushing up from the room behind, the _thump_ of someone making a jump onto one of the tables, a few more footfalls, and then a blurred shape flew into the beam of light and collided with Scratcher, suddenly knocking her into the black and going with here.

" _Holy shit- w-w-what was THAT?!"_ Tweek shouted.

"What the hell is going on?" Token complained, stepping out through the doorway and turning his phone's light to try and find out what just went down. It was around the corner from where Karen was standing, but she had a feeling she knew.

 _Something's gone wrong. That was Kenny!_

" _RUN! GET TO THE DOOR!"_

* * *

Exhausted and hungry, Stan had not made it to Sneaker's in good time. Sleeping on cold concrete had not made his long night restful in the slightest, and the last time he had gotten anything to eat or drink was dinner at home, _yesterday._ Mix that up with how much time and effort he'd spent trying to get that door in the basement open on his own... _poor_ was probably the best description of his condition, but there hadn't been any time to lose on recuperation. Kyle had probably already triggered his _nuclear option_ by now, which meant the clock was ticking for getting their friends the fuck out of the building before Cartman did... _whatever_ he was gonna do.

He'd cut through town to try and shave off some time, but it didn't appear to be enough. When Stan arrived, it was to the sight of squad cards parked on the street with their lights on. _The police were here._

 _Did Cartman call the cops? Why?_ It was always an angle with him- some weird slant to come at a problem from an unexpected direction. Through the thickening snowfall, Stan could see there were three uniformed cops at the moment, along with the Sarge- Harrison Yates. None of them looked happy, and one of the beat cops was currently searching for something in the trunk of one of the squad cars.

Stan was across the street from them, ducked between a pair of buildings on the other side of the road and watching as the police officer hefted up a thick, heavy rod with two handles from the trunk of the car; a battering ram. It was a police tool for beating down locked doors. Why were they pulling out one of those? Stan was certain the officers were talking to each other, but he couldn't hear what any of them were saying at this distance.

Were they trying to get in? Was the front door locked?

 _Isn't the front door made of glass? I can't see through it- it looks dark..._

As the police officers turned their backs on their vehicles, Stan was able to observe one more thing from his vantage point. Squinting through the snow, it took his poor exhausted brain a few extra seconds to be certain he was seeing what he _thought_ he was seeing... and once he was certain, he wasn't entirely sure what to make of it.

He saw Cartman- the fucker was on the move, hurrying along the street the moment the officers had turned from their cars, leaving their vehicles unattended. He had something with him; something _big_ and _red_ and _square-ish-_

 _Is that a gas-can?_

It was! One of those five-gallon ones that some people filled up with fuel for their snow blowers and stuff. Squinting harder, Stan realized that Eric also had a hose with him. The fat fucker made quick work of the first car he came upon, opening up the cap for the gas tank and proceeding to siphon fuel out of one of the squad cars.

Beyond him, Stan heard the glass of the front door shatter. The officers had gone to work with the battering ram to try and open up the building. Stan figured it would be done after one hit- glass broken meant they could slip in, right? But it was only _now_ that he realized why the entryway looked dark; the metal shutter was pulled down inside the doors... and they were using the battering ram to try and break it out of its tracks and remove it.

 _Well shit, the SPPD might actually be doing something right, for once._

Distracted, Stan had looked away from what Eric was doing. He didn't realize that the fat son of a fuck wasn't just siphoning out fuel into his gas-can.

He was also splattering more, out onto the road, the cars, even the still-open trunk of the other squad car that he hadn't touched. Stan didn't realize at all- not until the flames flared up and obstructed his view of the officers... though, from the screams of surprise, he was guess _they_ had just noticed, too.

"Where the _fuck-?"_ Stan muttered, only half crouched and searching frantically for where Cartman had gone- catching only a fleeting edge of the fat fucker's trademark hat as he absconded around the corner of the Sneaker's building. After that, Stan couldn't see anything; not through the black smoke billowing up from the burning squad cars.

"Oh you _son of a..."_

He needed to move fast; this would probably be his only opportunity to cross the street and follow Cartman, and assume he had another way in. With the fire and smoke as cover, he needed to get moving, or lose his shot at helping entirely.

 _Dee and Kenny are gonna owe me big-time for this!_

With that last thought, he dug in to sprint after Cartman.

* * *

 **::The Author's Corner::**

Eric moves fast when he's properly pissed off.

ONWARDS!

 _-Buttlord_


	28. For Your Safety, Run

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – For Your Safety, Run::**

Dee's first revelation upon diving into a narrow red tube was that the indoor play area was made for four-year-olds, not _fourteen-year-olds._ Despite being _small_ for her age, she was instantly too-aware of just how tight the space was as she slid up into it, grasping at the sides of the upwards inclined plastic pathway and forcing herself upwards as fast as her limbs could propel her. There was neither time nor space to glance back and see how close her pursuit was, throwing herself upwards without care towards the amount of noise she was making in the process.

An impact rocked the structure, and damn near made her lose her footing before she made it to the top of the tube. Teeth gritted together as she pressed her palms hard against the sides, keeping her position and forcing herself up the last foot to make a landing within the structure... and not a moment too soon, as Sniffer seemed to realize _chasing her into the tubes was not an option,_ and opted to instead _rip away the one she'd just been in._ It jerked and jolted just as she exited it, nearly catching her foot as it was ripped off from the larger structure and thrown aside with a hollow _thunk._

The larger structure swayed slightly, but remained upright. She had no idea what exactly supported this fucking thing, but she had to guess it wasn't made for three hundred-plus pounds of mechanical muscle yanking it apart bit by bit.

 _Up, up is good; heavy things don't do **up** well, right? _

The path split up a number of ways from the cube she was currently in, to either side and forward. A side path tapered down, making it a solid _no,_ while the other two didn't offer any incline. Given the choice, she chose the tube that was simply _bigger,_ moving straight ahead in a somewhat ball-like crouch with her stocking feet shuffling along the plastic to do as much sliding and as little stepping as she could.

Behind her, she heard what could best be described as an electronic _snarl;_ it wasn't anything within the animatronic's existing vocabulary, but rather a raw noise manufactured out of electrical snapping and feedback from the speaker. A hard _thud_ impacted the section she was currently in, directly below her. Then another as she hurried, and another, following her progress through the pipe as she felt the robotic dog somewhere below her was trying to _punch up through_ the molded plastic... which, lucky for her, was more apt to _flex_ than _shatter,_ giving her a chance to escape the section and arrive in another junction box; this one tall enough that she could stand up.

With light from the outside, she could see this box had a cargo-net thing in the middle for climbing, and a ball-pit below for falling kids to have a soft landing. This area had multiple ways to go; up high and down low, going off in several different directions like spokes from a wheel.

 _It also had an opening at the bottom._

Dee didn't know if that hole was big enough for an animatronic to fit through, and she wasn't hanging around to watch Sniffer try. She reached out for the climbing net in the middle and set herself for the highest path she could reach; a few feet above her and heading back in the direction she originally came from, just at a higher level.

A second after her hands secured themselves to the net, feet leaving the platform behind her... _the lights went out._ More than that she realized- the sound of air vents, music from other parts of the building and overhead speakers- this was the dead entropy if a _power outage._

 _Too convenient, too perfect. Some dick-faced butt-licker cut the power._

She couldn't hear anything; no music beyond the play area, and no footfalls from the monster that pursued her. She held her breath, hanging from the climbing net and unable to ground herself visually. Without solid ground, she quickly lost track of where she was in the space; how far was she from where she intended to go? A horrible panic began to rise up in her chest, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end as she fought to hold still and _listen._

Could the animatronic see in the dark? Did it respond to sound? If she held very, very still, would it lose interest in her, or be unable to find her?

There were no footfalls, but there was _dread_ without any sound. A horrible fear that it was closer to her now, had moved in silently and was possibly within range to grab...

Her head jerked around, trying to see something, _anything-_ a shine in the dark... but there was nothing. The net gently swung with the motion of her checking behind herself, and she twisted in the air. Knuckles gripped tighter, and she swore she heard the material softly _creak_ in her grip; a sound that caused her heart to make a horrified leap up into her throat.

Somewhere outside the play area tower, she heard it moving. Slow, careful footfalls, that stepped gently but sounded against the cheap carpet all the same. Then a _thump,_ and another _thump,_ and a fuzzy _drag_ of soft material across the smooth surface, followed by the faint crackle of static electricity that liked to gather up in these play structures for kiddos.

She looked down, back at where she thought the entrance at the bottom was.

There was light there, now. The inner glow of eyes that existed in the black space, painted blue and staring up at her. They had no body in the dark, and held perfectly still as she stared down at them.

 _Sodomize Genghis Khan with a daikon radish, this isn't gonna end well._

She turned her nose upwards, although looking where she was going didn't do much in this pitch black. Didn't matter. It was better than staring down at those eyes, waiting for the moment the suddenly got closer in-between eye blinks. She ascended, hand-over-hand- and desperately seeking purchase in the net with her toes, trying to gain as much stability as she possibly could.

Below her, she heard Sniffer's big body slipping into the ball pit, the hollow plastic spheres making their unique sound as they bounced off one another and were pushed out of the way but the animatronic's bulk. A second later, the net suddenly steadied... because it had gone taut; weighted from below.

The nylon fabric audibly protested, as did whatever anchored it to the ceiling. There wasn't much time left; if she didn't get to a ledge and get off this thing, the animatronic was gonna rip _it_ and _her_ down to the ground level. Pulling herself up a little higher with one hand, the other left the netting to sweep out, searching for the wall. At first she found nothing but empty space, but another throw of her body as she extended further away from the net caused her fingers to collide with the wall.

She didn't feel an opening. She could hear the plastic roof to the tower buckling as the climbing net took on more and more weight.

 _Fuck, fuck, **fuck, c'mon!**_

She was blind. She had no idea if she was high enough; or maybe she had gone too high and she was just below the roof that sounded like it was about to collapse in before the net itself gave way. With a hand on the wall, she desperately scrabbled her fingers along the surface, searching for an edge, _trying to find the opening she saw._

The netting jolted, and something above her popped. However it was affixed at the top, it was coming loose. She felt a band of fabric within her own hand lose tension, and something fell into the ball pit below; possibly a bolt.

 _THERE!_

Fingertips found an opening, and barely grasped the edge of it as there was another _pop!_ From above, and then a cluster of them as the entire net came loose. Her other hand let go as she turned herself in the air, clawing into smooth plastic material and _barely_ getting her elbows into the opening she'd found while gaping for breath. She kicked, fighting to get her weight up and over the edge, terrified that she might still slip back into the abyss where Sniffer had let out a horrible electronic _howl_ at her managing to elude him.

She couldn't heft her body up without sliding back; everything was too smooth, too slippery; her socks couldn't get traction on the wall of the tower, left to thump uselessly against the wall below her as she flailed her hands out, searching for anything she could _grab._ A handle, a seem, _anything!_

An impact rocked the tower, the hit jarring her as the force ran up through her elbows where bare skin managed to keep her planted. It felt like Sniffer had tackled the wall; trying to force her down.

Eyes screwed shut; they were useless anyway. She flopped her right hand upwards, to the side, hoping there was a handle to help kids get in and out of these tubes... and finding exactly that; textured plastic her fingers could wrap around and grasp to as salvation. With a heavy grunt, she yanked herself upwards, got her knees into the opening, and rolled into the tube.

 _Suck my metaphorical dick, Sniffer. **Suck it.**_

* * *

Kenny knew full well that giving Scratcher a _boot to the head_ was risking mortal damage; it didn't matter. With the information Butters had given him, that the Scratcher animatronic was probably already possessed and thus _dangerous,_ meant there wasn't much choice in the matter. It didn't matter that the cat robot wasn't currently acting like it was inhabited by an angry ghost; what mattered was that his sister got out of this bullshit alive.

 _Seriously. Fuck this town. Fuck everything about this fucking town._

He'd barely gotten out his demand for everyone to _run for their goddamn lives_ when he took a hard hit to the ribs; swiped at from the machine he'd just hit with enough force to knock down and getting thrown against a nearby table in the dining area.

" _Bad boy- you- ruined the- surprise!"_

Scratcher's voice was different from the way Sniffer talked. Smoother, less like she was cobbling together bits and pieces on the fly and more like she was fully in control. The words were still prerecorded, still varying in specific tone, but it sounded less like a Speak-n-Spell in a haunted house and more like the work of an inexperienced kid working with their first audio mixer.

"Kenny!"

That was Karen shouting out for him; she sounded close; like she'd run out to see if he was okay.

" _RUN!"_ He shouted out again, voice dropping an octave as he belted out the demand with all he had, trying to see the others but getting blinded by the lights from multiple cellphones.

"Karen, c'mon!" Kevin's voice; who sounded like he didn't need to be told twice. There were other footfalls, now; they were moving.

"But Kenny- we can't leave him- _lemme go!"_

"Bad boy-s- will be- taught a- lesson about- hit- ing- girls!"

" _Get her out of here, Kevin!"_ Kenny shouted, forcing himself upright despite the pain and dizziness that was still clinging on from his fairly recently tryst with a wall. He just needed to distract Scratcher for long enough that everyone could get to the door and get the hell out.

His coat was seized from behind; a massive mechanical hand had snagged him by the coat while he'd been shouting out to his siblings, and lifted him like a doll. Feet left the ground, kicking and struggling as the collar of his jacket caught under his neck and made it hard to breathe. Both hands bolted up to grab at the restrictive edge of fabric, still trying to twist his head around and confirm that Karen and Kevin had gotten a move on.

The lights of phones were flashing across the space; his friends finally running like he told them to. He had to hope Karen was within that group, too.

"You are- not- part of- this show."

Looking forward, he found himself eye-to-eye with Scratcher; green eyes that were given the extra detail of having the appropriate pupil shape for a cat, and made just as creepy as the others by being eerily lit from within, allowing them to stand out in the dark without apparent support from the rest of the body... though he was _very_ aware the body still existed, holding him up like a kitten caught by the scruff.

The _off_ feeling he had about this place felt stronger; like he was sensing the dead thing pulling the puppet strings on this machine.

"What the hell?!"

There was a shout from the other side of the room, and the running steps of the other kids came to a halt. Kenny couldn't look to see them, but he strained to _hear_ them while transfixed by Scratcher's gaze. The voice that shouted out sounded like Craig; projected over the still-squalling baby doll in his possession.

Kenny felt his heart drop. He had forgotten. Sniffer might have gone after Dee, and Butters had told him Scratcher was probably active... but there had been another animatronic in the room, one that wasn't yet inhabited by anything.

The fan-favorite one; the hedgehog drummer, Spike. The one who had stayed on stage after the show.

"Once we're all- awake- the real party can begin."

Craig and Tweek's baby screamed louder; a sign that Spike was likely close to the group.

"What the- _what in the Sam Hill is going on here?! Scratcher, Spike, what do you think you're doing?!"_

Another voice in the dark. Not any of his friends, not Karen's friends, not his siblings. No, the voice of an adult... muffled by a mascot costume.

Kenny found himself suddenly dropped. Scratcher let him go, and he crashed to the floor with a pained grunt as his head begun to violently spin again. He turned on the floor, butt remaining on the ground, while eyes with blind spots burned into them by the glow of Scratcher's eyes uselessly blinked to try and see _something_ in the inky black.

"This isn't how we do things- I need to reprogram all of you, don't I? Buncha _haywire, hunks of junk!"_

Kenny was certain, _he knew that voice._ He had that feeling since the first time he heard the man in the mascot costume, but hearing him shouting- hearing him _angry..._ it was more and more familiar...

"We are not- what you- programmed." Scratcher intoned in her steady, cut-and-pasted together speech. "We are not- your- toys."

" _You bet your fluffy behind_ this isn't what I programmed. Sniffer pulls the shutter, I cut the power, and then we spook the kids as part of the show! How am I supposed to deliver on the _Sneaker's Experience_ if you're all going off the rails all the time!? _This is Denver all over again!"_

Kenny blinked. _Sneaker's Experience?_ What the _hell_ was that supposed to mean?

"We are not- your- toys." Scratcher repeated. She sounded like she was getting close to the mascot man. The screaming of the baby doll had reached an earsplitting quality at the other end of the room.

From outside, there was a sudden noise. Shattering glass, and then a deep _boom_ that shocked the ribs. It came from the front door. Kenny heard multiple voices in the group scream.

* * *

 **::The Author's Corner::**

Iiiiiii think we are safe to call this a horror story now. XD

BTW I'm low-key referencing a FNAF song called _Run, Run_ by ChaoticCanineCulture in the chapter title. Do recommend, is a good song.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	29. Breaking and Entry, Breaking an Exit

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Breaking and Entry, Breaking an Exit::**

Eric had run away as soon as his mother's back was turned. She'd been so focused comforting him after Kyle 'beat him up' that she'd let her posture slip, and playing the victim until she went to her room to let him rest was about as easy as it got. He'd quietly raided the garage for a few tools and a gas can, made a call, and gotten a move on.

Kyle was right. _This was between him and Douchebag-_ and he was going to make that make-believe ginger fuck _pay_ for it this time. He'd asked the guy for help, and he'd agreed, and then turned around and stabbed him in the back for _what?_ Some stupid crew of forthies that just _happened_ to contain Kenny's little sister. If it had been for a girl their own age, he _might_ have understood, but this?

 _This was sick._

The police had beaten him to the scene, of course; exactly as he intended after he called in an anonymous tip about a possible molestation of a little girl. It was the sort of thing that Yates didn't need to be told twice about. If there was anything Eric was surprised by, it was that there were only two squad cars. He'd been expecting the full force of a SWAT team to be there, setting up a perimeter and getting ready to rip the place open... but that actually made his life easier. It meant there were less eyes to catch him stealing a gallon or two of fuel before splashing some on the cars and setting light to them.

He escaped around the side of the building with the police men freaking out.

" _Hehe, sweet."_

Coming around the back, he found exactly what he expected to find; a back door next to a loading dock for the kitchen. In fact, he was in luck- an employee was outside, enjoying a smoke break.

Wait a second, was that the zitty fucker from the theater?

"What the- hey, you're not allowed back here." The guy said, immediately sighting Eric as he came around the back corner of the building, as well as an industrial sized dumpster pressed up against the wall. It was the sort that one saw when buildings were doing roofing and such; the extra large ones with the ladder on the side so the lid could be accessed. It was probably still on site because the building had recently been completed, waiting for whatever company it was rented from to come and take it away. Eric didn't care about that- what he _did_ care about was that the rear employee door had been wedged open with a doorstop; no doubt so captain Pizza Face didn't have to fumble with his keys just to get back into the building after having a smoke. "Get outta here before I call the cops, you little shit."

"Might wanna check 'round front before you threaten that." Eric responded smugly, not pausing when faced with the guy. "There's a fire!"

"Are you _kidding me?"_ The ex-theater dweeb rolled his eyes, "Do you know how many times I've heard _there's a fire_ jokes working the ticket counter in this town? I don't even _work_ there anymore and you morons keep stretching to try and make it work- it's overdone; just like Chuck Norris- you popcorn munching retards ran it into the ground _years_ ago."

" _Cartman, you fat sack of piss!"_

Eric blinked. That wasn't part of his equation.

Stan had just come around the back of the building, from the other side. His jacket was missing and he looked like hell... also angry. His shouting made the smoking employee twist his head around, letting Eric look away from the 'before' zit cream ad picture that was his face for a blessed second.

"What the? _Oh shit_ you brought your buddies- Alright, that's it, I'm not playing this game with you little turds- I'm calling the police."

"The hell are you doing?!" Stan completely ignored the young man who was now in the process of pulling out his cellphone.

"Inflicting payback, the fuck are you doing?" Eric responded easily.

" _Our friends are still in there!"_

"Yes, hello? Yeah, there's some fuckin' kids here, trespassing 'round the back of the new Sneaker's arcade..."

There was a very particular reason why Eric had chosen fire as his tool of vengeance; namely that he wasn't responsible for where it might go after it was lit. It was his trick, his way of keeping it between _him and Douchebag,_ while also very possibly catching others who helped him in the crossfire. People like Kenny, whom Eric originally asked to talk to Heidi for him, but apparently Douchebag had done that as well. They were both accountable, but there was that damn _truce_ he'd made with Douchebag... something he usually wouldn't care about, but the second he even _thought_ of taking direct action against Kenny, there it was in his head with the screeching _noise_ that fucker had played from his phone right before they made the deal.

Even skirting around a technicality, the ringing was in his ears, and it fucking hurt his head.

"... whaddya mean the police are already here? _Pedophilia tip...? – WHAT?!"_

" _I DON'T HAVE ANY FRIENDS!"_ Eric roared, louder than the dog-whistle from hell that was singing shrilly in his head, before stepping up to shove the flabbergasted employee aside and yank open the rear door, kicking the doorstop in as he passed through the dark passageway to leave Stan behind him.

"Cartman- _Cartman, wait!"_

" _What the hell- You little shit! I DON'T HAVE THE KEY!"_

The heavy door slammed shut behind him.

* * *

Butters had remained in the coat room with Clyde and Henrietta when Kenny took off like a bat out of hell. Without any light, all they could do was _listen_ as there was a scuffle, and a great deal of shouting. He was too wound up to _just wait,_ though, pulling out his phone to act as a flashlight and see what he could do with the shutter pulled down over the front doors.

"Wha... what are you doing?"

Clyde had followed him; probably not wanting to remain the room where they'd recently been cornered. Butters could understand; that tousle with Sniffer had made his healing stitches ache, and he'd only gotten rolled off of the thing. Memories of being _cornered_ with _nowhere to go_ were pretty easy to evoke in him, and no one here even had a gun.

Least, not that he knew about.

"Seein' if I can get the door open." Butters reported, cupping his hand over his phone; the last thing he wanted was the light attracting something else dangerous to them. Usually shutters like this had a lock on the _outside,_ so whoever was closing up could pull it down behind them and secure the place on their way out. This one was weird; it was a _twist latch_ instead of a key-entry lock, and it was _on the inside._ It was something he could just turn and open- it _looked_ like they were trapped, particularly in the pitch dark, but they really weren't; like it was just meant to scare them.

He'd just turned the latch when the door was impacted from the outside. The sound was deafening while crouched right in front of the metal slats that made up the shutter, and his body automatically threw itself back like something had grabbed him around the middle and yanked him away. He knew he screamed, and heard Clyde cry out, too.

"Give me that _thing!"_

There was still commotion behind them, one of the baby dolls was crying, there was shouting, and the great _BOOM_ from the door seemed to be a point of punctuation that shocked everyone into a beat of silence before Henrietta shouted out a demand. She'd been closer to the dining area; Butters was willing to bet she wouldn't run until Karen was out.

There was still crying, shill and loud; it was the one thing that hadn't shut up for a second.

"Hey, that's ours-" Craig's voice complained.

"Shuttup, poser, I'm trying to save our asses."

Butters got his head together enough to look at the door, squinting as the slats had bent and bowed to allow slivers of outdoor light in. There was a massive inward dent, and there was a section just big enough for his hand where the aluminum had actually bowed out away from the track the shutter rolled on. In the space, he could see the broken glass of the door that had shattered, fresh snow on the sidewalk, and...

 _The bright red glow of a nearby fire._

"... _oh hamburgers..."_

"Fuck off, bitch, if I lose that my family will be so pissed they gotta pay the fine-"

"Craig, get over it and move! _Please_ tell me we can get that door open?!"

"Butters is working on it." Clyde reported to the insistent female voice, identified by quality to be Tricia, who was physically pushing her older brother into the tiny bubble of light that now existed by the possible exit. "... Butters?"

"I-I was just about to, but..."

Butters knew it before he tried, but had to reach out and make the attempt anyway. He understood how things went together, how mechanical forces interacted, and that giant dent in the shutter? The dislodging from the track? "It's jammed!" He cried, trying harder even as he reported the failure. He grasped it from the bottom, trying to brute force the obviously broken security barrier to move.

"Get out of the way- Token, Clyde, Tweek, help me out. And you- the tall asshole, get in here!" " Craig commanded, moving up to supplant Butters at the door and grasp it himself.

" _Augh! R-right!"_ Tweek affirmed, the other guys moving in and forcing Butters out; there wasn't room for all of them, and he was still recovering from a recent injury. He wasn't gonna fight them for the right to try and force the shutter. Even Kevin, Kenny's older brother and the aforementioned _tall asshole,_ did as Craig said without protest.

Butters glanced back, checking the hallway for possible threats and sweeping his phone light out to try and see. Behind the group that was hefting to try and get the door open was Karen, Dougie, Ike, and Tricia; clustered together with wide eyes. Beyond them, Butters couldn't see anyone in the dining room.

He realized, at that moment, that Henrietta was gone, and he didn't hear the screaming baby anymore.

"Damn, this thing is _stuck."_ Token swore as a group heave only managed to move the shutter a single squealing inch, the section that had bowed out from the track puckering further with the effort. It wasn't sliding; just getting more messed up. "What the hell happened to it?"

"What we need is leverage-" Kevin observed without answering Token's question. "Like a crowbar or somethin'. Or..." He trailed off a second. _"Fuck,_ everyone, I got it, c'mon!"

"Where are you guys going?!" Clyde yelped as Kevin departed, Token and Craig beginning to follow him without a beat of hesitation, and Tweek only a step behind Craig. "Those robots are still out there!"

"I just need one of the tables." Kevin explained only for a second, making a quick motion with his hand that insisted he be followed. "We can use it like a ram if everyone pushes it; they got rollers on 'em."

"C'mon, ya pussy, it wasn't like they were doing anything." Craig insisted.

" _Fuck you_ they weren't doing anything- you didn't nearly get ripped apart by one!" Clyde remained staunchly by the door. "And there's three of them out there! Kenny went out there to fight one to keep it from hurting you guys, and Dee led one off, and then there was the drummer-the-hedgehog guy-"

"That's the one that tried to block us before." Craig shrugged. "It didn't do anything, and it followed Henrietta when she took me an' Tweek's doll."

"Where did she go!?" Butters finally found his voice, nearly squealing the question to get a word in edgewise.

"How the fuck should I know? It's _fucking dark."_ Craig returned flatly. "I just want to get the hell outta here, so let's go grab a table and ram this stupid door out of the way."

Cellphone lights were being turned towards the dining room as kids moved in a mob. Butters watched, finally getting up from his butt. He glanced back to Clyde, who hadn't moved an inch.

"Karen- _Karen, where are you going?!"_

The moving group lost a member, the receding feet of which Butters only caught a glimpse of as he turned his light back out towards them. He saw Karen's twin braids flying behind her and the edge of her skirt as she bolted away from the others. It was Tricia who had shouted after her.

"I have to help Kenny!" She shouted back from the dark. "You guys stay with the group and get the door open, I'm getting my brother!"

"Karen, you-! _Karen, don't be an idiot!"_

There was a scuffle, a mixture of younger bodies trying to run out after their friend, and older hands preventing them from doing so. Butters quickly moved up himself, leaving the door behind to pass around the mass and place himself in front of the small trio that was Karen's group of friends. They weren't the only ones trying go after her; Kevin, too, had been grabbed by multiple hand and restrained from going after his little sister.

"You guys worry about the door- I'll make sure she comes back." He volunteered.

"Fuck that noise, that's my family in there!" Kevin shouted, straining forward out of the hands of Token and Tweek. "If those robots are dangerous, I _should_ be after them to show them what the fuck is up when you mess with the McCormick clan!"

"You're the biggest fella we got." Butters returned pragmatically. "We're gonna need you to break down the door. Trust me; I can help."

Butters didn't wait for a yes or no, turning around and dashing into the dark.

* * *

 **:: The Author's Corner::**

Butters to the rescue!

And Eric is, quite literally, in the building. :3

 _ONWARDS!_

 _-Buttlord_


	30. You Bastard!

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – You Bastard!::**

Henrietta had done the math pretty quickly; the baby dolls from school were carrying tainted spirits of some kind. It would be impossible to tell exactly _what variety_ without a séance or otherwise making direct contact, and she didn't really have the time to be setting up a circle without letting _someone_ get murdered... A proposition _she_ didn't have much of an issue with, but Karen would.

It wasn't just the spirits in the dolls, though- it was the robots, too. The animatronics had something nasty in their energy already; nothing alive, but ghosts weren't the only thing that could change something's properties. Objects became conduits of the darkness in a number of ways; abuse from their owners, being objects of hate, being the instruments of torture or depravity- and shit like that _attracted_ spirits. Henrietta was almost certain that the spirits weren't necessarily _trying_ to hop into the robots... it was more like _they couldn't help it;_ like tape picking up loose dust by virtue of _being sticky._

 _If they wanted to go, they wouldn't cry so fucking loud._

Either way, a quick decision had to be made or there was going to be another berserk and confused robot like the dog-bot had been, so she'd forced her way into the crowd of kids trying to make their escape and took the screaming doll before the last empty vessel in the building got too close and the soul made the jump. From there, she beat feet across the dining area. She couldn't fucking see, just like everyone else, but she remembered enough of the room to know where the tables _weren't-_ and her goal was just to get the hell away from the exit so the others would half a fraction of a chance to get back to their dull, soul-crushing, conformist lives.

Also helpful in her fight against the darkness were the fact that all the robots had _fucking LEDs_ in their eyes- it let her see exactly where the over-sexualized cat in the mini dress was, and let her dodge out of its possible swiping range as the mechanical baby in her arms dipped in volume while distant from both robots, but got louder again when she neared the furry-bait and passed it by.

It seemed that cat wanted all of the robots to be awake; taking the prize and running off with it was the same distraction Dee had just pulled, but the difference here was Henrietta's package was still _worth_ something. The doll Dee had taken had been just that; a doll. Empty now, but the spirit hadn't been ready to accept that. It was confused, possibly forced to change bodies after _years_ in that shell, and suddenly had the ability to move and scream. Eventually the spirit would lose interest once it realized its new agency... but it was also _angry._ Henrietta had felt the pitch blackness in it during the brief second she'd been close to it, and knew that _losing interest in its old body_ would not necessarily mean _leaving Dee alone._

No, it wanted to fuck up someone. _It needed to. They all did-_ and it seemed like whoever was in the Sneaker costume was their actual primary goal.

Really, she had no immediate plan beyond taking the doll and distracting the machines away from the door, and she had no exit strategy. Maybe this was the night she embraced the void. Fine, whatever; she could die with that. Maybe _she'd_ haunt this place and ruin birthday parties for suburban conformists for the next fifty years or so. In this shitty world, devoid of meaning or purpose, all that mattered to her was that Karen was gonna be okay.

It mattered because she _decided_ it mattered.

Maybe some of that _cheerful nihilism_ was rubbing off on her.

* * *

Kenny knew what he needed to do. He knew it as Henrietta ran past him, holding the coveted doll that was still emitting its shrill cry. He knew it as the Spike animatronic gave chase, hazel-yellow eyes glowing in the dark and moving stiffly through the dining area with a singular purpose but without the life Scratcher and Sniffer contained at the moment. The bulky hedgehog drummer was following Henrietta, but grew slower the more difference the big goth girl got from it, like it had been drawing energy from the doll's ear-splitting cry. As the crying faded, Spike came to a halt between himself and Scratcher, with the man in the Sneaker costume on the far end of the room, backed up against the prize counter as he just _now_ began to realize he was in some kind of trouble.

Kenny had forced himself to his feet after Scratcher dropped him, pulling out his phone for light and shining a beam on the scene just as Henrietta rushed past. That light seemed to trigger Spike as he lost track of the doll, head turning in a normal manner that one might expect from a dopey robot that was running on nothing but programming and servo motors. He lacked the _life_ Scratcher and Sniffer had; he was still empty.

As always, he was calculating. Henrietta had just run into the arcade, possibly to hide, but she had something with her that would oust her location the second anything dangerous got close to her. Dee was still somewhere in the play area, possibly pinned down by a crazed and newly-possessed animatronic. Everyone else was trying to get the door open, and who knew what the ghosts planned to do with the guy in the Sneaker costume?

As long as they were trapped in the building, there wasn't a chance they'd all make it out alive. He needed to buy the others time to get that door open and escape.

He just hoped Karen would forgive him.

Dizzy and still feeling sick, Kenny threw himself into a fresh charge; past Spike and directly at Scratcher- specifically to get _between_ her and the idiot she looked ready to pick up and tare apart. "Mister Garrison, _get the hell out of here!"_

He knew it was him. It had to be. The voice was right, and while he had no idea why the fuck Garrison would be running a place like this, it was no secret that his stint in the presidency hadn't exactly left him the most popular man in America... and if anyone was capable of pissing off a bunch of _ghosts_ this badly, it was probably Garrison.

"What the- _how did you know it was me?!"_

Kenny didn't look back. He was looking up. Scratcher had hesitated a second; her hands had been outstretched to grab at Garrison, but now someone was in her way. It didn't last long, however; she rose up a mechanical paw to hit him; probably to knock him out of the way.

"I said _go!"_ Kenny shouted. "Can't you tell these things are after you- _augh!"_

The hit was direct; another impact to his poor skull. His ears rang, and bright colored splotches seared his vision as his eyes screwed shut. He didn't know if he'd succeeded in getting Garrison to run, but that wasn't even his main goal. He was mildly aware that he'd been knocked down to the floor, his face against the cold tile and contrasting the hot sensation on the other side of his face. Was that blood? Felt like it. Dripped like it. Other sounds were far away; like his ears were filled with water, and muddled by the high note being played to his brain by Satan's dog whistle. He thought he heard shouting, maybe even a scream.

The cold went away. He wasn't supported anymore; he'd been lifted up by his jacket again. He existed in space, disoriented and lost as his head spun.

Eyes cracked open. Pain stabbed through his forehead as he was confronted with those green cat eyes again. Scratcher was _looking_ at him.

"You're a- problem." The cat animatronic observed icily, words coming through like they echoed from the end of a tunnel.

He attempted a smile. He had no idea how well it worked; if the expression actually adhered to his face or if it was a mess made of his sensory delirium.

"Then fix it, _bitch."_ He responded, faintly slurred.

The movement was sudden. Direction was beyond him, but he understood _velocity;_ air moving past him and the lack of anchoring to anything. He'd been thrown.

The distance was short. The impact was cruel. He heard bones snap.

Someone screamed.

* * *

Karen had watched it happen.

She'd run from the group with determination that she was going to find her brother and make sure they left together. After _all the times_ he'd protected her, made sure she got out of everything safe and sound, she wasn't going to run away without him. _She couldn't let herself._ She'd sprinted for the entrance back into the arcade with her phone fumbled out of the pockets of her skirt, desperately trying to turn the device back on so she could use it as a light.

She'd made it to the far side of the dining area by the time she had it out and on, and the scene which she illuminated was far from the one she wanted to see.

She saw the man in the Sneaker costume, running for his life towards the front doors. She saw her brother, part of his face bloodied, and Scratcher lifting him up off of the floor.

She watched the animatronic throw her big brother like a rag-doll, slinging him upwards before propelling him down to the floor.

She screamed over the sickening sounds of a skull cracking against the floor, and a neck giving way to the sudden impact. There wasn't any words to it; just sound as she stared on in horror. The shock caused her to drop her phone, the light ending up facing up towards the ceiling as she halted in her crazed run and backed up a few steps, covering her mouth as the image remained seared into her eyes.

"Karen! Karen, wait up!"

She felt hands on her shoulders, but she didn't know who it was. There wasn't room for that.

" _Kenny- oh my god, Kenny, he-"_

"It's okay, buddy, it's gonna be okay." The voice belonging to the hands assured her, but she didn't believe them. How could it be okay?

Some _thing_ had just caved in her guardian angel's skull.

Into the upturned light from her dropped cell phone arrived the monster in her tight mini dress. Lit from below, her feline face became a demon's, stark shadowing only highlighting further the sickening green of her eyes as she locked upon new targets. Spots of blood existed on the internally lit globes, and the greatest splatter dyed one of her feet red. She loomed over Karen, grinning a permanent smile that expressed glee at what she'd done.

"Don't worry, little rock-stars. _It's all part of the show!"_

Karen felt the hands on her shoulders pull her, trying to help her get away as her own scream was joined by another. She wanted to move, but her knees buckled, and her tripping delayed them both. Half-stumbled, she couldn't look away as Scratcher reached out for them; no doubt to do to them what she'd just done to Kenny.

Scratcher was stopped when green hands with spiky detailing wrapped around her middle, yanking her back out of the light with a mighty _crash!_ Of something big hitting the floor.

" _L-leave the- the- the- them alone!"_

The voice was garbled; its quality frightened Karen, but _something_ had just saved them. Something just as big and strong as Scratcher.

Another shape stepped up, bending down to pick up the phone from the ground. It moved clumsily, bending too fast and nearly falling down on the floor, and then gingerly getting its balance before a massive mechanical hand managed to retrieve the light-emitting object and hold it out for Karen to take it back.

" _I-I-It's okay, birthday girl. I-I-I'm h-here."_

"Jesus Christ, _Kenny, is that you in there?"_

Karen finally identified the voice behind her; the person who had followed after her to try and bring her back to the group. It was Dee and Kenny's friend, Butters, who sounded absolutely gobsmacked as she gingerly took her phone back from the bulky shadow in the dark. Looking up, she could see the eyes of said shadow; a yellow-hazel color. Those were the eyes belonging to the drummer robot; Spike. The green hedgehog, who sported a mohawk along with the same black leather theme the rest of the animatronics were dressed in.

They were different, now. The color was the same, but something was... _alive_ in them. She turned her phone light upon the machine, and asked softly; "... _Kenny?"_

The machine's head bobbed in a nod.

" _C-c-closing time, kiddies!"_ He prodded them, speaking through prerecorded lines that still stuttered and glitched. _"Time to go home!"_

"But what about you?" Karen demanded, resisting as Butters tried to comply and pull her along with him. "Are you gonna be okay?! I... I saw-"

"Karen, it's not safe here." Butters urged. "C'mon, your big brother told ya it's time to go, that means _it's time to go!"_

Karen fought him, trying to shrug his hands off only to get grabbed under her arms; Butters was ready to bodily drag her if he had to. Her flashlight beam wavered and ended up directed at the floor as she fought harder to remain where she was. "No, you don't understand, _I have to make sure he's gonna be okay-!"_

Behind the bulky shadow of Kenny's new body, the green eyes reappeared. They glowed brightly in the dark- the spark of life within them burned with rage.

* * *

 **:: The Author's Corner::**

Because if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. :3

And we finally have our first Kenny death that's not undone by time travel! That took long enough XD

Too bad Stan's outside and Kyle is elsewhere, they can't really deliver their signature lines if they're not present XD

 _ONWARDS!_

 _ **-Buttlord**_


	31. The Noses Are Just For Show

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak- The Noses Are Just For Show::**

Eric Cartman was humming to himself, rather cheerfully, as he clicked on his flashlight and found that the employee door opened directly into the kitchen. He didn't know why the lights were out, and he didn't particularly _care_ at this moment; he'd be _brightening things up_ in a moment.

Just inside, he could hear Stan banging on the outside of the door he'd pulled shut behind himself in a raw moment of rage and spite. Getting through had been a thrill that defeated his headache for the moment, helping him move along to the industrial kitchen and begin examining what he was working with... and finding more than he could have hoped for. A pair of deep fryers, filled with cooking oil! No dice on a gas range, instead there was just an electric pizza oven and a prep area with toppings and dough... but that was fine. There was more than enough here to work with, particularly once he started splashing stolen fuel from his gas can around.

He'd been in the process when he heard... _something_ moving around in the dark. He'd been careful where he splashed; the fryers were hot, and the last thing he wanted to do was block his exit by getting the party started _prematurely,_ and hearing something or someone in his space made his head twist around, along with the beam of his flashlight.

He didn't see anything, but he could have _sworn_ he heard something; like footsteps, but harder... like the person had metal edges on their shoes or something.

He shrugged, returning to his task, spreading a trail of gasoline back from the fryers towards the door, and tossing the can aside once his back was to his exit. He could _still_ hear Stan freaking out back there- guy really didn't know when to quit, did he? Eric chuckled, reaching into his coat and finding a flip lighter Jimbo had given him some years ago, back when the state tried to make Zippos illegal. Flipping it open and holding it over the trail of gasoline that led back into the kitchen felt like a movie scene, and Eric savored it by staring at the flame contemplatively for a second.

Beyond it, he saw a pair of eyes staring at him from the far end of the kitchen space. They were lit from within, bright and shining- _purple._

Startled, he dropped his lighter.

* * *

It had been a _long_ time since Kenny had the experience of being in a body besides his own- he didn't know what to do. For a second, possibly his last second, he was afraid; what if this didn't work? What if his theory was wrong, and he was about to wake up in his bed back at home and find out something _terrible_ happened to his sister?

Then he couldn't feel anything. Not the fear, not his body, not the floor. The ringing in his ears were gone because, for some unknowable length of time, he no longer had them. He was without, an entity of lack; shapeless, formless, unknown and yet knowing himself.

Something touched him, and he became it. He took its form, took its being as his own. Like this thing were a paper towel, and he was a drop of water, he was simply _drawn into it,_ without any agency over it. He became it because it grasped him, and he had no means of escaping that grasp.

Senses returned, but they were different. They were not the senses of his flesh, understanding a range of temperature and tactile touch, or smells. He could hear; possibly better than he could before, and the darkness now appeared to him in gray scaled night vision. He was _taller-_ bigger, but he had no direct awareness of his limbs outside of _touching something_ or _not._ He knew he was standing, but had no feedback for his joints, his fingers, his knees, his _body-_ there was no reference between _at rest_ and _moving_ in this shape.

He also wasn't breathing. There was no means through which to breathe. He had no lips nor tongue to shape words, nor any apparatus he would understand as a mouth in any immediate context. It wasn't until after he acted to get Scratcher _the fuck away from Karen and Butters_ that he finally wormed his way to grasping the voice box inside the machine, but even then he was... limited. The voice was not his own, and the dictionary was not easily broken apart to form the sentences he needed. He wanted to reassure Karen everything was going to be alright- even if that was a lie... that was fine. She wasn't going to remember any of this.

None of them would. They'd all forget what he did to help them get out alive. That's the way this worked.

During his attempts to reassure his sister, he saw her wild and wide eyes drift above looking at the hulking new shape he had taken control of. _Something was behind him._

He turned away, and addressed Scratcher in the dark. She was no longer a massive thing that loomed over him; instead she was the same size as him, and he understood her beyond the metal shell.

There was a soul in there; angry and determined... and he'd helped its intended quarry get away. _Mister Garrison-_

There were memories in this machine; terrible, disgusting memories. Kenny suddenly knew why the Sneaker costume smelled like the dumpster out back of a sperm bank on a hot day- Garrison hadn't just built these robots to entertain kids; _they were his toys, and Sneaker was his favorite until the endoskeleton inside malfunctioned, too gummed up to work anymore._

If he had the capacity, he might have gagged. He didn't know what had happened to the _souls_ to make them so pissed off, but knowing what had happened to the _robots_ might have held a suggestion as to why they were so easily possessed. What was is Henrietta said? _Dark attracts dark?_ These fuckers were building up the critical mass to make this fucking restaurant a _black hole._

There wasn't any more time to be disgusted, though; Scratcher was on the attack, bent low and coming at him to take him down.

Movement was strange and clumsy; a body based not on muscles, but motors to drive a mechanical skeleton within a suit. It also lacked the complex neural matter with which he was used to processing things, making the finesse of just _walking_ a task he'd liken to trying to work a marionette without any previous experience at doing so... only he _was_ the puppet as well as the puppeteer. To try and throw himself into a fight was almost immediately an exercise in over-balance as he tried to understand the right joints for the right jobs; pitching forward to catch Scratcher's incoming force by bending at the knees and ankles, and throwing arms out wide at the shoulders and elbows... and nearly toppling onto his face before she arrived.

They caught together with his shoulder wedged in at the joint between her body and head; the cartoonish design having no _neck_ to speak of. The meeting was loud, and she latched on to him when he didn't slide back or fall.

There was no panic. No adrenaline. Nothing biological to drive the fight- nothing but a force of will that got him to master his limbs and close one arm around that joint between her body and head, and to push back against her with steady steps forward that were gaining more certain with every little movement.

He could still hear Butters and Karen. He could hear his sister crying out for him, and trying to run to him while Butters dragged her away. Whatever motivations these ghosts had, he had a better one.

 _He had people to keep alive._

He twisted his torso at the hips, further than a human spine would have been able to, and suddenly plunged both himself and Scratcher to the floor with her on bottom. His lost footing didn't matter; her design was different than his. _Smaller- of course it was; Garrison was a sexist bastard. Of_ _ **course**_ _the only girl animatronic was smaller than the others._ She squirmed at being brought down to the floor, but he had mastered his fingers and forced them into the seem between her head and body. The jaw of her headpiece cracked and _sparked_ as he forced his fingers in, realizing with horror how easily it was to rip into the exterior before bending those knuckles tight around the _collapsed lip_ he'd created.

One hand pinning Scratcher's body down, the other pulled. It pulled until anchoring bolts creaked under the force. Pulled until he could see the mechanical pieces that actually controlled the movements of Scratcher's jaw beneath her friendly facade. It pulled until the cables within her head piece began to come apart with the strain.

All at once, it _gave,_ and the face was flung out into the dark.

Scratcher's head- the naked endoskeleton, was revealed. Parts had ripped off; the metal tubes that fit inside her fabric ears had gone flying with the head piece that had made her look friendly and feminine, the long blonde coif of hair she had going with it. Left behind was something that looked almost too small to be a proper head atop her still-intact body, with a metal jaw that looked like a duck's bill constructed from sheet metal, bolts, and inserted with teeth that imitated feline dentition. Sticking out from this rather small platform where the still-present bulbous eyes; stilted, green, _loathsome._

Without the bobble-head to protect her, Kenny balled his fist and drove it down into what qualified as her face. The material of her eyes shattered under the force, and the metal structure of her skull bent and bowed. He wound up and hit again, and at that point he finally discovered a true _sensation-_ electrical sparks that raced up through his system as he beat the hell out of hers, exposing wires as the cables broke apart and her jaw warped and _tore_ under multiple impacts.

" _You can't kill me- I'm already dead."_

 _Shock._ The voice wasn't coming from the mangled robot, which had ceased to move. Kenny had no brain from which to perceive it; rather it harmonized with the ineffable _thing_ he'd been before slipping into this body. The shapeless, unknown nature of the soul that had existed in the void for both an eternity and no time at all before being drawn into this shell.

In being spoken to, he found a way to speak back. He, too, fell still as he searched for it and answered.

" _What the hell is going on? Who are you!?"_

" _We were his helpers. His assistants. We were just trying to do our jobs."_

Kenny was dislodged. He knew he still existed in that metal body, but there was another layer to things. A step away from the physical world, he could slip back into that darkness; able to float away a few inches before feeling a _pull_ that reminded him that he was _tethered_ to his new body, and trying to rip away from it fully would be both futile and painful.

In this state, he could see the ghost that had been within Scratcher- it wasn't a woman. It was a man; a man in a suit, with short black hair and a tired expression.

" _He told us he'd come back to Washington, he just wanted to show us something. We were all so thankful to hear he'd go, we didn't question the condition. We followed him into the basement. We had no idea what was going to happen when we got there. **It had never been that bad before."**_

 _He told us he'd come back to Washington._

So many things snapped together. The angry ghosts, the focus on Garrison- but the dolls...?

" _How... how did you end up in the dolls?"_ Kenny demanded.

" _They were in the room; he set them up like they were watching. And then he..."_ Kenny could feel it more than he saw any expression; a deep well of _shame_ and _pain_ was opened up in recalling it. _"He fucked us all to death in that little room, under the elementary school. He preferred to kill us all than let us take him back to DC- but the dolls were tainted. They're objects of torture; they've picked up so much hate from the students that carried them over the years, that none of us could escape. We ended up trapped in the dolls... and now... **this."**_

The ghosts were President Garrison's _presidential assistants-_ the stuffed shirts who had come to town looking for him! Kenny had always wondered where those guys had disappeared to... and he'd never actually gotten a count on them. How many had there been? _How many of the dolls were still carrying angry ghosts?_

" _Why are you protecting him?!"_ The ghost of the aide demanded. _"Why are you helping him get away?!"_

That... was a question. This was hardly the first of Garrison's atrocities, and Kenny didn't even know if it was the _worst-_ he knew Garrison had done a _lot_ of shitty things in office, and plenty more before he'd been _America's Fag-in-Chief-_ Alyssa wouldn't have saved his ass, that was for sure. She probably would have let Garrison get ripped apart once she realized who he was. She'd always been more _Red Hood_ than _Batman_ as far as her philosophy went, and _particularly_ when it came to anyone who carried a political title; currently or otherwise.

" _He's alive."_ Kenny responded plainly. _"He can suffer in prison."_

" _ **NOT GOOD ENOUGH!"**_

The return to the physical was harsh, suddenly reconnecting to the shell he'd been tethered to as the remains of the Scratcher robot began juddering and shaking; _failing_ its limbs and trying to continue the fight. It wrenched away from him, taking a position on all four limbs as it blindly scuttled about its environment, grappling at a table before seizing it and _flinging_ it back at him... but without the ability to _aim_ at him, as the animatronic body no longer had eyes with which to see.

Maybe it was a distraction; it was still moving along at a disturbing speed until it crashed into the wall next to the entryway to the arcade, stopped, and then ran along the wall until it found the gap through which it could enter.

 _Henrietta!_

Kenny threw himself into lumbering pursuit, getting himself back upright and following. His new eyes could see in the darkness, identify the shapes of the arcade cabinets as he rushed in and came to a skidding halt while scanning this way and that. He didn't _see_ Scratcher's body, nor any sign of Henrietta or the still active doll she'd taken... but he could see some kind of _haze_ in the air. Was that...?

 _Was that smoke?_

He couldn't smell it. He had no sense of smell, nor of temperature. He filed it as irrelevant, instead listening for _any_ sign of life in the room with his newly acute audio sensors.

Something above him groaned under a heavy load it wasn't designed for.

He turned and looked up, and found Scratcher perched atop an arcade cabinet... but it wasn't moving. No; it was probably like him; listening for movement, trying to figure out where its targets were without the sense of sight.

He tried to find the right words in the pre-made dictionary to put together a warning- Spike didn't have a lot to say, it seemed, despite being a fan-favorite character... and most of it was calls for people to dance.

Could he mess with words? Chop them into sounds and put those together? It was difficult; he felt like he was fighting the on-board computer that usually dictated Spike's behavior; where he was trying to put together an intended phrase and, as he pulled sounds together, it was pulling them back apart.

Somewhere in the room, he heard something.

 _A cough._

The headless sneaker body tensed, and made a flying leap off of the arcade cabinet. It smashed into the roulette wheel type machine and shattered the Plexiglas bubble that sat on top of all the little lights, one of its hands getting caught as it tried to dislodge itself with a frantic sort of motion and _ripped the whole dome free._

" _Move- o-o-u-t of- here-!"_

Kenny managed something shorter than he'd meant to say, forcing it through the voice processor while going after Scratcher now that she was back on ground level. She- _he?_ _ **They**_ were stalled, trying to get the dome off of her arm, which gave him the time to come up from behind and seize the mechanical tail that was part of their build. Secured with both hands, he _yanked,_ surprised when the thin appendage didn't simply pop free but instead drug Scratcher back where he could grab them by their leather mini-dress and force them down with a knee into the back.

 _Henrietta- Here, near, right, eat, trick, able-_

" _He-ne-ri-eat-t-a-a!"_

It was badly garbled, but he managed to put together he name from a number of sounds in the library; tearing apart words to make something that would let her know he wasn't trying to _kill_ her. _"Go! Go!"_ He shouted after; that word was already in there, recorded to be shouted over a crowd to encourage energy. He could increase the volume, but not change the tone; and he was _blasting_ his message out while trying to break Scratcher further. He'd taken hold of the arm that _wasn't_ stuck in a glass dome and began to yank like he'd yanked at their head.

If he couldn't _kill_ Scratcher, he'd damage them until they were too fucked up to move anymore.

Somewhere in the space beyond him, he heard it- footsteps rushing out of the arcade. _Henrietta had made a break for it._

Beneath him, Scratcher's arm popped free of its shoulder socket.

* * *

 **:: The Author's Corner:: **

TWO CHAPTERS IN ONE DAY. WHASSUP?

And man oh man writing Animatronic! Kenny is... a fuckin' trip, my friends.

As always, all feedback is greatly appreciated. I hope you're all getting hyped for the last act of this story, because I certainly am.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _ **-Buttlord**_


	32. Fire Bad

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Fire Bad::**

 _End of the line._

After getting out of Sniffer's immediate reach, Dee had set herself on trying to find a way back to the door... preferably with a few second's lead time. Sadly, she'd found no such path. The high tunnel she'd found her way into had no path back down, instead ending in a clear globe of plastic that allowed the person within to see the entire play area below them... which, for her, meant she could see _fuck all_ in the pure darkness of the windowless room, save for a pair of blue eyes glowing in the dark and staring up at her from what she presumed to be the ground.

A few ideas came to mind. Trying to break the globe off and ride it like a hamster ball was one option, but she didn't know how she'd get it loose. Everything here was new; no rusty or unkempt linkages for her to snap apart with a sharp kick or general thrashing... and she also didn't have any sources of fire on her person, which ruled out any attempts at _gas-powered melting of plastic_ to weaken the structure. More so, she had no idea if the ball would even protect her all that much once she hit the ground. Sniffer had already demonstrated _speed_ was part of his capabilities; any time spent _dazed_ on the ground would be time she spent vulnerable to attack.

 _Damnit,_ this is usually when something really convenient happened, right?

Maybe back when she played imaginary games with her friends... but convenient happenings that worked out in her favor had _not_ been the norm of late... and as her nose detected a very _specific_ smell, she suspected that trend was continuing.

 _Smoke._

It was a faint smell; the smell of acrid, black smoke- the kind that came off of burning stuff other than wood; choking and toxic. She caught only a whiff of it at first, but in drawing a deeper inhale to check her perception she ended up covering her mouth to muffle a cough as the scent stung the back of her throat. There was no mistaking it- _something was on fire._

 _Break a glass rod shoved up Stalin's Soviet dick, NOPE._

It had been only a couple weeks ago that she'd last been in a burning structure. She remembered the smell, the burns, the heat, the panic- and catching that scent threw her right back into that place. She still had spots on her body that were healing from that event; blisters from burns that were pale spots of new and tender skin, and lacerations stitched back together that had her upper right arm _still_ wrapped in gauze to keep things covered while the healing process took its course. Worst of all was how her body wanted to _immediately_ go into a retching fit of coughing at the first hint that the air she was breathing was no good.

 _I'm up high. Smoke goes up- I need to get down, or I'm going to suffocate in this shit._

 _But..._

She could still see Sniffer down there; looking up at her with an _intent_ gaze. Did he know she needed to come down? He'd stopped trying to rip the structure out from under her, but he hadn't left.

 _Maybe he's trying to figure out a way up. I'd be trapped if he got up here._

That was a whole 'nother kettle of yikes, curled up in an area built for children smaller than herself. _She didn't like small spaces, and she liked them even less in the dark._ Riding the edge of panic was an understatement, but she _needed_ to keep it together. The sense that that the tunnel was somehow shrinking around her was something that had to be violently shrugged off as she tried to _think._

That would get more difficult as time went on. The smoke smell was getting more intense.

All at once, she had an idea. She had no idea if it was a good one, or if it would even work, but she couldn't stay here.

It was time to abandon the doll. She removed it from the makeshift carrier she'd fashioned out of her flannel over-shirt, dropping the plastic baby in the clear globe she'd been occupying while securing the layers of red and black plaid fabric over her nose and mouth instead.

From outside her clear plastic, she heard a horrible noise; an electric crackling that seemed to warp through the sound of a raw scream of a dying man. It was not unlike the snarls Sniffer had let out when he'd been after her before, but it was much _louder_ and carried more _rage_ than desperation... which actually gave her half a hope that this plan was going to work. It looked like he was still interested in the doll... which meant it would serve as a distraction.

She couldn't depend on just that, though. She had another part to her plan, and it involved her brick of a phone. The thing had been _useless_ since the raids on the local garages, but she figured adding some _noise_ to her distraction couldn't hurt. Pulling it out of her pocket and unlocking it, it instantly blinded her with bright backlight after her pupils had adjusted to absolute darkness. Squinting and blinking, she hastily pulled down the top menu to turn it down, flicking it back up and being confronted with the last app she had open.

Namely her gallery, and the selfie she'd snapped outside with Karen, Kenny, and Kevin. The four of them, with the sign of the pizzeria over top- the photo Karen had asked her to take with her giant smile and big, joyful eyes.

 _Donkey jizz, how long ago was that? An hour? Maybe?_

Her plan involved abandoning her phone. She somehow doubted she was going to get it back after this was over; not if there was a fire in the building.

It might have been stupid, but she turned her data back on. She didn't have anything useful for her enemies on her phone right now, and she wanted to save the picture by sending it to herself. Today may have gone to hell, but she wasn't going to lose that one precious moment to all this _bullshit._

She waited until the file confirmed that it was sent, and proceeded to swap over to her media player, selecting something off the scream-o playlist and jacking the volume up as high as it would go. A vicious thrash of guitar and drums were the first thing out of the tiny phone speaker as she turned on the flashlight on the device, locked the screen, and placed it next to the baby doll so the light shined on the plastic infant.

Below her, Sniffer let out another distorted howl. Looking out, she could see those glowing eyes moving back and forth; like the bot was pacing- _agitated._

 _Time to go._

The sound of her movement was covered by the music, which the tunnel amplified like she was _inside_ a speaker. Leaving the clear globe behind, she made her way back along the tunnel with a growing awareness that wherever the fire was, it had to be nearby. Her eyes were beginning to sting and tear up, prompting her to blink and eventually just close them... seeing as they were entirely useless. She was navigating on touch, sliding her hands out in front of herself and shuffling her knees behind, both anticipating and _dreading_ the moment at which she'd find the edge of the tunnel and have to figure out a way down in the exact same fashion.

One hand nearly slid right off into the void, and her whole body collapsed in a desperate bid to ensure she did not fall down head first. It was unnecessary, a reaction born of fear and adrenaline, as was the way she gasped for breath under the layers of her shirt over her face.

Through the structure, she felt a faint jolt. A sharp vibration that wasn't the bass produced by her phone's speaker getting amplified through the tubing of the play area. Sniffer let out another horrible scream, and she heard something like an animal's claws trying and failing to get traction on tile, each swipe of an imagined paw sending another little impact through the interconnected structure like a spiderweb conveyed motion across its surface.

She didn't stop to consider the implications of that. Instead, she set to the task of turning her body to lower it over the edge. One hand found and grasped a handle at the very edge of the tube she was leaving; the same one she'd snatched at to pull herself up into the space not too long ago. Her other hand braced against the edge, and she lowered her body over the side as gently as she could, getting more and more aware of her binder as she extended herself _and_ labored to breathe.

She'd worn it all day. She wasn't supposed to do that- it had probably started to hurt a while ago, but it was only now that it was hurting her enough to _notice._

Toes in socks slid along the smooth walls of the tower, her jaw gritting down as she tried to ignore all the different ways her body hurt at the moment. Also overcoming her adrenaline was a sharp ache from her still-healing stitches; and a duller one from the other laceration that had finished healing on her other forearm a couple days ago, although the scar was still tender to the touch. Trying to move slowly, deliberately, depending on steady and quiet movement left her with spare seconds for her body to complain that the task was too much to ask.

Her right hand, the one that anchored her to the handle above her, was slipping. Pain was shooting up her arm, and she felt her grip failing.

Fully extended, her toes found an empty space in the wall; another tunnel, but she couldn't reach any actual footing. She'd found the top of the tunnel, not the bottom.

 _Fuck it._

She released the ledge, twisting herself away from the wall and accepting the consequences of gravity. She wasn't worried about the landing; there was a ball pit down there.

No, _noise_ was the trouble, and she tried to correct her position in the air as much as she could in preparation to _run._ Whatever lead her distraction had given her, she would need every second of it.

* * *

"Mister _Garrison?!"_

Butters had arrived behind the man in the mascot costume, still dragging Karen as she openly sobbed... but the strength had gone out of her struggles the further they got from what happened. Upon arrival, it seemed the group was reacting to the shock of a familiar face being the man behind the mask... who had removed the head of the suit.

"Oh, you little shits can get on my case later, we need to get out of here!" The balding ex-president proclaimed, no longer muffled by the head piece he'd been wearing everywhere around town. He wasn't sporting the spray-tanned look anymore, instead looking very much the way he did back when he was a teacher at South Park elementary; white as hell with thick square glasses and a serious case of _resting jerk face..._ not that Butters would ever say that aloud. "What the... _the hell_ did you idiots do to the shutter?!"

"Don't look at us!" Kevin shouted over the top; easily the loudest voice in the group, as well as the tallest member of their mob. "It got fucked from the outside. _We're_ trying to beat it down."

Sure enough, the group had gotten one of the long tables from the dining area, which had wheels on the bottom that allowed it to be rolled once the breaks were released. The group had arranged on either side of it, grasping the table by the attached benches and preparing to use it as a battering ram to beat the door out of the way.

"Well, what the heck are we waiting for? Let's get this going!" Garrison shouted over the top, stepping into join in the group of pushers by taking position at the very end of the table with Kevin- putting the strongest members of the group in position to maximize the force produced.

"Dude, the fuck is that _smell?"_ Kevin complained, his face twisting.

" _Fuck you,_ I haven't had the chance to wash this costume during the move." Garrison fired back.

" _Shut up and push!"_ Token shouted over the top. "Are we ready?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Kevin agreed. "Alright everyone, on three- one, two... _three!"_

The mob threw itself into the task; Kevin, Garrison, Token, Craig, Tweek, and Clyde digging in and driving the long table into the shutter covering the door with a yell, with Butters left to stand a few feet behind and watch with Karen still in his grasp... and her friends arriving to comfort her. Tricia, Ike, and Dougie had come from where they'd been standing aside from the pushing crew, hurrying to Karen.

"Are you okay?" Tricia demanded at once, her _no fucks to give_ monotone breaking as she grasped Karen by her hands. The girl had stopped struggling at this point; going limp and quiet, and not reacting right away when Tricia pulled her further into a hug. "Holy _shit_ you scared us..."

"... Karen? Are you...?" Dougie inquired further as she didn't speak, he and Ike lagging at the edges while Tricia openly expressed affection. "... where's...?"

There was a sharp crash between the table and the door. Metal squealed against metal.

"It's starting to give! _Pound it again!"_ Garrison shouted.

"He's back there." Karen said quietly. "He..."

The birthday girl hastily collapsed back into tears. Ike and Dougie stopped hesitating; they joined Tricia in holding Karen, supporting her as she was too distraught to support herself.

"... we're here for you." Ike offered softly.

Butters felt as if he were intruding, looking away from Karen and her friends with the assurance that she was, for the moment, taken care of. Looking back towards the door, he could watched as the group wound up for another hit; drawing the table back before everyone was thrown into another charge. The shutter had become more mangled after the first impact, light showing at both edges as the slats that made up the barrier became more and more dislodged from the metal track at the edges.

Another hit increased those gaps, creating spaces that the smallest among them might have been able to squirm through. The wrecking crew let out a whoop of victory.

" _One more!"_ Kevin declared. _"Pound that bitch like she's cheap!"_

"Ooh, nice one." Garrison admired.

"Don't look at me." Kevin snarled back.

"Okay, _jeez,_ oversensitive much?"

" _Focus, assholes!"_ Craig shouted over the top as they backed the table up for one more hit.

Before they could dig in and charge at the door one last time, something happened outside. A sound that cracked through the air like gunfire, but it was bigger, the sound... _rounder,_ if that were a quality that could be ascribed to something that impacted flesh and bone like a solid yet invisible force. It hit the door, and blasted it off of its rails, sending it flying into the table that was about to ram it and knocking everyone attached away in the process. Butters saw Kevin get thrown atop it with the force, losing his footing and going head-over-ass along the surface of the surface, ending up _only just_ flat enough to avoid a mortal impact with the metal shutter that was now flying loose at deadly speed through the air. Garrison went down; under the wheels of the table and his bulky mascot suit acting as a sort of doorstop that prevented the table from coming so far back it took Butters and the younger kids out.

But the shutter was still coming. Butters saw it flying directly at his face.

" _DOWN!"_

He swept towards Karen and her friends, arms wide and knocking all four of them to the floor with a shout.

* * *

 **::The Author's Corner::**

Yeah, fun thing about cars on fire- when the burning hits the gas tank, they tend to go 'splody.

Also Dee might be developing just a _touch_ of pyrophobia.

 _ONWARDS!_

 _ **-Buttlord**_


	33. Sneaker's Bones

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Sneaker's Bones::**

Scratcher was out of commission. It didn't matter that the ghost inside the robot body was still awake and angry; Kenny had pulled them apart until they were nothing but a torso and scattered, disconnected limbs.

Standing back up in the arcade area, the haze he'd noted earlier had gotten worse; billowing into the room from somewhere and obstructing his vision. Where was is coming from? Had someone set a fire? Or maybe there'd been an accident? Assured that Henrietta had gotten away, he wandered further back in the arcade area, past quiet machines that sat dormant without power... machines with which he currently had more in common with than his friends, for however long he existed in this body.

That was a concern. How was he going to get out of this body? And the other ghosts- there had to be a way to release them. He needed to escape to get back to life as he knew it; last he checked Alyssa was into _furries,_ not _Transformers,_ and while his current state was somewhere between those two circles on a Venn Diagram, he somehow _really_ doubted she'd be cool getting cuddly with a machine Garrison had used as a sex toy.

 _Alyssa!_ She'd run off into the play area, with Sniffer in hot pursuit! Was there a way around to there from here? The other option was to go round the other way, through the dining area and near the door, and that would be the _long way_ around. If he could find a way from this side, he could hopefully save some time.

Arriving at the back wall of the arcade area, he found a door that read 'employees only'... which had been violently ripped off its hinges. The door itself was cracked in the middle, shards of plywood sticking out in sharp jagged edges around the split and suggesting it had been busted down from the other side.

That kind of strength suggested another animatronic, but there'd only been three, right? Scratcher was lying in pieces behind him, Sniffer was in the play area, and he'd taken Spike's body before it could be possessed. Theoretically Sneaker had a mechanical counterpart that ran the suit when Garrison wasn't wearing it, but Butters had said something about it being loose in town; that it had come alive after Stan encountered it the night before.

 _They're after Garrison. What if it came here to try and wake the others, like Scratcher wanted to do?_

There wasn't time to mull it over. He stepped past the broken door and into the thick black smoke that was coming out of it.

He failed to notice a ventilation cover, near the ceiling, had been removed with the same violence as the door.

Past the doorway was a short hallway that split off left and right. Right was towards the back of the building, to another door. Left was towards a _wall of fire,_ his eyes adjusting automatically out of their night-vision filter and instead seeing it in full yellow, red, and black horror as flames overtook and made efforts to consume the commercial kitchen that sat in the center of the building. How it got started, he had no idea, but the flames had already reached the deep fryers and were climbing the walls with the kind of voracious appetite that could only be caused by an oil fire.

Despite having no way to sense temperature, Kenny felt aware of the heat. It made his connection with his new metal body feel... loose. Like if it were to burn hot enough, he could slip free and escape.

 _That's how I get out. That's how we all get out. I need to make sure these fuckers burn._

Ahead of him, there was another door, making where he was standing a four-way crossroads. Considering the one behind him opened to the arcade, he was reasonably certain this one would open to the play area.

It was locked, but that was hardly a problem.

* * *

There was a noise from somewhere else in the building when Dee hit the ball-pit. Or maybe it was outside the building; the kind of thing that _reverberated_ through the stone walls and shook dust from the ceiling. It sounded like something had _exploded,_ somewhere near the entrance.

There wasn't any time to care about that- she needed to get the hell out. Forcing her way out of the ball pit and through the tunnel on ground level was a noisy affair, but she no longer had a single fuck to give about stealth. If there were a dial in her person that ranged between _be quiet_ and _go fast,_ it had been cranked all the way to _go fast_ and far enough past it that the control was fucking _broken._

She tripped out of the play structure, hands out to prevent a possible collision with a wall but swiping at nothing. Then, with only a second to orient herself and remember which way the exit was, she dug in and started sprinting.

Ahead of her and to the right, she heard Sniffer scream again. Elevated, too- slightly above her. Had he tried to climb the structure? Was that what she heard before; him trying to work his way up from the outside?

 _Doesn't matter!_

She couldn't judge distance based on the volume, and the only thing she could see at this point was a faint light from ahead- only it wasn't the washed out gray light she'd expected from the others getting the door open. No, it was an orange glow, emanating from around the corner and just out of her line of sight.

 _Don't tell me the fire is up there!_

Behind her, there was another noise. She couldn't even identify it at this point, simply knowing that it was _loud_ and _not in front of her,_ which meant she didn't pause in her hell-bent run for the front door. Whatever she found up there, she'd adapt to it. Even if the front door was blocked or in flames, she _always_ found a work-around.

The light was blocked, a shadow passing between her and the orange haze. She was going too fast to skid to a stop or even try to dodge around; she threw her shoulder down and dug in as she caught a glimpse of the blue eyes that identified Sniffer as being the block in her path.

The collision was not unlike running into a wall. The impact jarred her shoulder, but she didn't give in to the pain. Fists clenched and she kept lifting her knees, digging her toes in against the carpeted floor and pushing with every ounce of force she had in her body.

Some part of her knew it was useless, but she couldn't do anything else. _This was what she had to do._

 _ **She had to.**_

There was a shrill squeal, the _bang_ and _clatter_ of mechanical parts coming into conflict with each other- and suddenly Sniffer's body gave way. Alyssa felt a rush of air next to her; something moving _fast_ had passed within an inch of her, and hit Sniffer like a fucking _freight train,_ baring the dog-bot to the floor and causing her to fall onto her other shoulder as she lost support for her full-bodied push against an immobile body.

On the floor, she almost didn't have it in her to get up again. Her legs burned, her shoulders ached, and she _couldn't fucking breathe._ Her heart trying to burst out of her chest was the only thing that motivated her limbs to gather beneath her body and fight the ever-constant force of gravity.

Looking up, she was unsure what to make of what she could see. In the dim glow from beyond the play area, it was hard to understand the tangle of shapes beyond a pair of shadows that morphed and shifted in the dark, with the occasional highlight of dim light from beyond identifying an arm or a leg. Was that... another animatronic? Fighting Sniffer?

 _What the hell...?_

The struggle was violent, one bot rising up over the other and viciously ripping an arm away from a socket, the breakage coming with a screeching complaint of warping metal before the joint gave in and an arm was thrown free of the living pile of mechanical parts. In the melee, Sniffer let loose another horrible scream.

The other animatronic spoke. It was like the others; prerecorded lines they already had in them, re-purposed for speech, but this one didn't require any cut-and-paste or garbling.

No, it was just one word.

" _GO!"_

She didn't understand what the hell just happened, but she wasn't going to argue. She got up to her feet, tripping and finding her way to the wall to avoid the fight as another limb was ripped out and thrown into the dark. Finding a solid guide for her hand to press against, she slid herself along the wall until she was past the scuffle, and then broke out into a sprint once more.

There was nothing between her and the door, now.

* * *

Henrietta had nearly arrived at the entryway when the door exploded into the building. She'd witnessed the gout of fire that followed it in, and saw Butters act fast enough to get Karen and her friends to duck down before the flying shutter took their heads off. Distant enough, she'd been able to step out of the way and dodge the metal shutter as it crashed into the dining area, one corner of it striking against the wall that defined the central section the floor-plan was built around and causing it to spin into the darkened seating area with the force of the blast.

 _What in Satan's name is happening out there?_

With the door gone, it was finally possible to see what was happening outside; namely that a pair of squad cars were parked on the street just outside of the building, and the sidewalk had been a thin buffer zone when one of the gas tanks burst. The one that had exploded was easily identified; bounced away from the curb by the force and blackened with the flames that were eagerly blackening the frame and body of the car. The other squad care, however, appeared to be yet to go... although it was very much on fire.

Without a door in the way, that imminent explosion had a chance of roasting everyone in the entryway.

"Hey you posers, _get back!"_

The first head to pop up and look backwards was Butters, who likely knew enough about fire, gasoline, and cars to yelp aloud when he processed the same information Henrietta did at a glance, echoing her demand. "Ho boy, _everybody, get away from the door!"_ He yelped, herding Karen and her friends back towards the dining area and directly around the corner to take cover from where the force and _flames_ of another explosion would be channeled. Others were following suit as they shook off the dazed confusion of the first blast, boys from Kenny's circle of friends getting rushed on by Kevin, who had recovered from the top of the table and was encouraging the others to move with well-meaning shoves while getting himself down from the surface of the table with a distinct limp.

From beneath said table, the man in the mascot suit- _wait a shit-sucking minute, was that Mister Garrison?_ _ **Really?**_ There really was no _not_ recognizing the guy, now that the head of the suit was off... either way, the man was crawling out as well, albeit slower than the others who were quickly hurrying to a safe distance.

Outside the doors, there was the sound of sirens. Henrietta took that as a sign that this would be over soon; the safety net of the masses had arrived, and life would go back to its mundane norms as soon as the fires were out and parents were called... but for the moment, she'd join the others against the wall, getting herself further away from the fire that had started in the back of the building that was generating choking smoke.

Arriving next to the gay couple, she held out the doll she'd run off with. "Here's your stupid baby."

Tweek gasped, reaching out and cradling the plastic torture device against his chest. "Oh my God! You brought him back!"

"Yeah... the school should _burn_ that thing." Henrietta recommended, putting her back to the wall and reaching into her bag. She needed a fucking cigarette after playing blind hide-and-seek with a murderous cat robot.

"Wait, where's Mister Garrison?" Butters quested, the tension in his voice still high. Henrietta felt like rolling her eyes- couldn't these idiots tell the excitement was over? That's what those sirens meant; the regular world was about to reassert itself. Back to all the usual boring shit for another week or so before some other crap happened; she honestly couldn't tell which part of that cycle was more insufferable.

"Hey, _pedo-hare,_ let's go!"

The voice that shouted was Kevin's; the eldest McCormick was at the edge of the wall, looking back into the entryway like he'd expected Garrison to be directly behind him.

"Mouse, _Sneaker is a mouse!"_ Garrison shouted back, unseen. "And I'm _stuck!_ The fur rolled up into one of the wheels-"

"Fuck him." Henrietta intoned flatly, securing her cigarettes and settling one into the elongated holder she had before lighting it. "It's his fault this place is even _here,_ and he abused the bots so much they were practically _begging_ to get possessed. Let him burn for it."

" _NO!"_

Karen's voice shouted out, and Henrietta blinked as the little girl in her numerous skirts tried to run out and _do something,_ only to get caught by her eldest brother before she could cross the threshold to try and help Garrison. He got her under the arms, lifting her up slightly to yank her back. Her feet briefly swung into the space beyond the wall.. just as another shock-wave hit the building.

A gout of fire and smoke blasted into the building. One of Karen's skirts caught, hastily patted out by multiple hands as the group cowered behind the wall that protected them from the roiling wave of heat that came with everything else.

Somehow, Henrietta found herself among that group. She didn't know when exactly she'd rushed in to help, but she was kneeling on the floor with Karen as she stared out towards the scorched lobby with wide eyes.

"It's okay, Karen... we all burn eventually." Henrietta tried to comfort, expecting that when the shock wore off she'd probably start to cry... but the moment of collapse never came. Karen kept staring, directly out, with wide eyes and a frozen expression.

After a second, Henrietta followed her gaze, and looked out into the lobby area as well.

There was a grating in the ceiling; probably for an air intake as part of the ventilation system. It was one of those details of a building that no one bothered to remember; like the exact placement of the lights, or how many outlets were in a room. Unless you lived or worked somewhere, it was stuff that just didn't register. Ventilation covers were just normal, expected parts of a building, and a big one near the door was a pretty common feature.

Less common was for it to be on the floor, below a gaping hole where it used to be, bowed out as if a cannon ball had been dropped atop it at terminal velocity.

Lowering down from this hole was a... _metal skeleton._ The innards of one of the robots, without all the outside pieces that made it cartoonish and friendly. It hung down from the vent by its hands, fully extending out from a much more crumpled ball before releasing and thudding down to the floor.

It looked first at the group of cowering adolescents, staring with uncanny purple eyes.

" _You- you son of a bitch- I locked you in the back!"_

 _Damn, he's still alive? … maybe the table protected him._ That was Garrison, coughing out an accusation at the surreal arrival of a forth animatronic... presumably the one that was meant to go into the suit he'd been wearing.

The eyes twisted away from Henrietta and the others, instead looking towards wherever Garrison was still pinned, and letting out an electrical growl.

* * *

 **:: The Author's Corner:: **

ALMOST THERE!

 _ONWARDS!_

 _ **-Buttlord**_


	34. Forgetting Something

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Forgetting Something::**

Ripping Sniffer apart had left Kenny only slightly behind, following after Alyssa after he was certain the dog-shaped animatronic wasn't going anywhere. Complete destruction wasn't necessary; he'd come back to finish the job once his friends were safe. Disengaging, he'd thrown his mechanical body to follow after his girlfriend, sped along as there was another rattling _boom_ from the front of the building that indicated _another_ explosion.

 _That's two now- what's going on?_

He slowed as he saw Alyssa enter the glow at the corner between the archway into the play area and the lobby area... and saw her skid to a stop. A hell-bent run for the exit became a sliding stumble before she skittered back to the corner of the wall, half taking cover but also peering around the edge to stare at something just beyond his current line of sight. Getting closer, he could hear the outside world; shouting, and sirens- the fire department had arrived!

… but the way Alyssa had stopped did not suggest firefighters had arrived in the building. It suggested there was something between her and the door, and she didn't want to tangle with it.

He arrived next to her, and was able to look out onto a scene he'd not predicted. An endoskeleton- one of the sort that he was currently inhabiting, underneath Spike's cosmetic body pieces, was in the lobby. There was a dining table in the area, too, wedged atop Mister Garrison. The head of his costume was gone, the man beneath looking proper terrified as the endoskeleton reached down with metal fingers and wrenched him up by the front of his costume, which was blackened and burnt.

It was like the aide's ghost had said- they wanted Garrison. He did this to them- both the spirits and the robots. _He'd done terrible things._

Across the way, tucked up against a wall outside of the blast radius, Kenny spied everyone else... Specifically Karen, who looked like she'd tried to run out and help Garrison.

 _Of course she did. She doesn't want anyone to die._

Next to him, he heard a sharp gasp. Looking, he found Alyssa, staring up at him with terror written on her face that expected he was about to crush her. At any other moment, he might have done something _sly_ to reassure her, but there wasn't time.

No, he rushed out to seize the naked endoskeleton by both of its arms, pulling to force it to release Mister Garrison, who immediately fell to the floor while the thing _screamed_ in his grasp.

He could feel it. The ghost in this one didn't mean any harm; it didn't want to hurt anyone besides Garrison- it's anger had one target... but he couldn't allow it. After _everything else_ that had gotten fucked up today, he was going to grant at least _one wish_ for his sister on her birthday.

 _He wasn't going to let anyone die- not anyone who would stay dead, anyway._

The endoskeleton struggled in his grasp; without body pieces it was able to bend further and faster than the others, its spine articulating strangely to turn its legs against him and try to kick against his chest... but this body didn't feel pain, and he didn't let go as he backed up from the door. One, two, three, four steps... far enough that the others had an opening.

" _Go- s-s-st-sta—stay low- get o-out-!"_

* * *

Stan had been apprehended by the police before he'd found another way into the building... as had Cartman, when he'd come back out of the employee door, looking shaken at first but smug after the fact. The pair of them had been taken across the street to wait while the authorities tried to set things right, with a cop watching them to make sure they didn't make a break for it. Cartman had spent a solid ten minutes trying to implicate Stan in the arson, but Stan's unwillingness to say a _single word_ simply made Cartman look desperate, and the ex-theater dweeb had quickly exonerated Stan by reporting that it was only Cartman who'd rushed the door and gotten inside with the can of gasoline.

They still didn't let him _go,_ though... and his phone was dead. He couldn't even message anyone and let them know what the hell was going on. Sat down on the cold curb, with fat flakes of snow falling from the sky, and the afternoon wind beginning to sharpen to the point that it ripped right through his shirt without his jacket, Stan could only _shiver_ and _watch_ the smoking building as firemen rushed onto the scene... just as the two gas tanks of the squad cars sent the vehicles up in bright plumes of fire, smoke, and shrapnel.

There was a rush of activity after that. Firemen were trying to get their hoses hooked up, and news had spread into town enough that lookee-loos were arriving both on foot and in cars to find out what the heck was going on. A news crew had rolled up with a van, with South Park's favorite midget in a bikini getting ready to go live with the breaking story.

Being stuck on the other side of the street, he couldn't see what was happening anymore. The door was obscured by the fire, and there was a fire engine in the way of the building proper. Anxiety rushed him as he bounced his heels, jaw clenching and squinting for any _hint_ that someone was coming out.

"I swear to God, if Douchebag survives this I'm gonna fuckin' poison his food or something." Cartman grumbled.

 _Like he'd eat anything you gave him._

"He's a liar, you know." He continued in the absence of any response from Stan. "He keeps lying to all of us- it's not just me. He's out to get the whole gang. I bet he's totally fucking Wendy when you're not looking."

… _don't punch the fat boy when the police are watching. I do **not** need to spend the night in a cell for assault. That would be just the **perfect** capper to my fuckin' day. _

"Which means he's cheating on Butters..." Cartman hefted a regretful sigh. "Poor kid, too nice to see he's being taken advantage of. Don't you think someone should _do_ something, Stan? Before I get hurt again? _Shouldn't someone help me?"_

 _ **It's not worth it, it's not worth it, it's not worth it, it's not worth-**_

"I bet he's got Kenny sucking his dick, too, all the time they spend together. We're all just his little... playthings, part of his game. He can _do_ things Stan; he talks to me, and it does things to my head. It makes me act different. I can't... I can't control it. _He raped my mind-_ isn't a guy owed a little payback after something like that? I'm the hero of a rape-revenge; you should be supporting me. Instead you're just... sitting there, giving me the cold shoulder."

Stan felt a hand on him. Cartman had reached out to clasp him on the arm, pantomime of a supportive touch.

"... did he do it to you? _Has he done it to all of us...?_ Maybe you're scared. I can understand that. It's okay... but we need to get 'em back."

Stan hated that what Eric was saying was at least somewhat based in truth. He knew about Dee's abilities- that the kid avoided talking aloud because it messed with people's heads. That his influence wasn't just online; it was in meatspace as well, and he'd gone to lengths to try and... mollify Cartman after that whole incident with the school dance, where the kid _had_ become obsessed with the idea that Dee was a liar who needed to be ousted- specifically by making him vocalize in front of the entire school. Whatever Dee had done, it appeared to have _helped,_ but not to have _fixed it,_ and Eric was still apparently convinced that the kid was out to get him.

Hearing Cartman twist almost-truths into threatening nonsense was a button Stan didn't even know he had, but it was definitely being pushed.

 _ **Fuck it.**_

"You're only _mad_ because it used to be _your game."_ Stan spat, shrugging off Cartman's hand and turning to serve him with a vicious glare. "Go get a penis enhancement so you can _go fuck yourself, fatass."_

"It's okay, I understand. It's hard to admit, even to yourself..." Eric wasn't deterred, still speaking softly, as if consoling a survivor of a terrible trauma. "Whenever you're ready to talk about it, _do something about it..._ I'm here for ya."

Stan had been ready to hit him. His fists had clenched, and he'd accepted whatever his fate would be with the police officer who was directly witnessing every second of the exchange... but he was interrupted when something changed by the doors of the pizzeria. He wasn't sure what it was at first, but it was like the energy had changed. The general noise of onlookers and emergency personnel ticked up, and he _swore_ he saw movement through the doors.

Then there was a horrible squeal of metal against concrete. One of the flaming squad cars, yet to be doused, was... _was moving?_

Stan had to blink. What the _fuck?_

It didn't make any sense, but one of the squad cars was being drug into the blasted-open entrance of the building, wedged firmly into the doors despite several fire fighters trying to douse the vehicle or whatever was moving it. Whatever was moving the vehicle was _strong,_ tilting the frame of the car to firmly wedge it into the only point of egress that didn't lead directly into an oil fire.

Panic rose up- where were the others? He strained to see, but there was just too much shit between him and the doors...

" _SON OF A FUCKING BITCH WHAT THE FUCK, DO YOU HAVE PLOT ARMOR YOU FUCKING- OW!"_

Cartman suddenly exploded, jumping up to his feet and screaming, half-way to running off the sidewalk before he was seized by the cop watching over them.

"Settle down, kid- can't letcha go until your guardian arrives."

Cartman quickly rounded to start spitting expletives at the cop, but Stan managed to track where the fat boy had been looking before he lost his shit. Over by the rear bumper of the fire engine...

 _There they were! Everyone made it out!_ Stan could see them all, watching as Dee specifically was sat down and given a mask for oxygen; standard treatment for smoke inhalation. Hell, even _Garrison,_ had gotten out, still wearing a somewhat burnt Sneaker costume without the head... and the camera from the news immediately turned on him. Craig and Tweek stepped away from the group, crossing the street to get some distance from the building and tending to a doll they somehow _still_ had in their possession. Token was on his phone, probably calling his parents, and Clyde was accepting a blanket and a drink from an EMT. Butters, Kevin, and Henrietta were clustered together, staying in close to Karen, Dougie, Tricia, and Ike while the whole cluster was led by another EMT for a wellness check after escaping the fire.

… _that's everyone, right? … I feel like I'm forgetting someone..._

"Stan? _Stanley Marsh!"_

Stan winced. He knew that voice, and he knew that tone. That was the sound of his mom on the verge of a _you are in big trouble, mister_ speech. Looking up the sidewalk on his side of the street, he could see his parents, and his sister, had arrived and were rushing up to come get him.

Despite knowing he was about to get chewed out, he was actually relieved to see them.

* * *

"... you okay, kiddo?"

Dee didn't know what to do or say when her parents arrived to get her. The cut on her upper arm had opened up again, necessitating two stitches to secure the split that had opened it up after the stress of _dangling her entire body weight_ from that arm. Thankfully she'd not suffered any lung damage, so after being carted off for treatment and her parents being called on a _landline,_ seeing as she'd left her phone behind in a burning building, she was released with minimal fuss.

It sounded like Garrison had gotten the worst of it; the ex-president/ex-teacher had parts of the costume he'd been wearing _melted onto his person._ She'd heard the nurses talking about it before her parents arrived to take her home.

And now they were in the car, mom driving and focusing on the road, and dad leaning over from the front passenger seat to look in on her on the rear bench and ask if she was okay.

She almost wanted to laugh at him, but she didn't have the energy. The guy who had chased her out of the house this morning, _screaming at her,_ wanted to know if she was okay.

"Chris..." Mom reproached.

"I know, I know." Dad's face twisted, letting out a heavy sigh before looking back to his daughter. "Listen, Lyssie... I... I know this morning got out of hand. Your mom and I weren't trying to make you feel cornered... there's just been a lot happening lately, and it's hard for us to keep up when you don't talk to us."

 _Great. We're back to square one._

Alyssa drew herself up slightly from where she'd been heavily slouched in the back seat, enjoying the freedom from her binder with deep and slow breathing that, if left alone, probably would have faded into sleep.

"I _did_ talk to you." She shot back. " _You didn't believe me._ I told you I didn't get cheesed on purpose. I told you I didn't do drugs with Kenny. I _told you_ he's a good guy, and I trust him, but _what I fucking say-"_

" _Language..."_ Dad warned, interrupting.

"No!" She snapped back. " _I'm pissed!_ You want me to open up the lines of communication, but when I _tell you what happened,_ you decide it isn't true! How the _hell_ do you expect me to be comfortable talking to you guys when I gotta come up with _proof_ like it's a _cock-sucking court room?!_ If you won't accept the _basic facts_ without accusing me of hiding something, how the _fuck_ do you expect me to be confident to tell you the whole story? _Do you have any idea how it feels when you guys doubt me and I'm telling the truth?!_ _ **It fucking hurts!"**_

Silence. Silence was always easier. She was so comfortable with silence. She was so used to her parents talking _around_ her and not necessarily _to_ her, or if they did talk to her... not expecting her to talk back all the time.

Maybe getting more articulate had been a mistake. She wished she could undo it, but that was more than a month ago... and who even knew if there _was_ a better timeline for her to end up on?

"... wow." Mom muttered. "Sweetie, I..."

 _Lemme guess, **you never thought of it like that.**_

"That... makes a lot of sense." Dad admitted, taking over where mom trailed off.

… _wat?_

"This morning, we were going to tell you we signed up for family therapy." Mom explained. "We thought maybe getting a professional involved would improve how we communicate..."

"But we just decided that. Without you." Dad added. "Because we assumed..."

"You assumed that you were right about everything, and I was lying." Alyssa summarized. "And you were gonna _make me_ go, and you thought that was gonna... _help?"_

 _Judas twerking on Buddha's lap, you guys don't always think stuff through, do ya?_

… _wait a minute..._ _ **I**_ _don't always think shit through, either..._

"We figured you wouldn't wanna go, so an ambush would be the best approach." Dad admitted. "... guess we learned something today, huh?"

Dee scoffed, rolling her eyes and leaning forward from the back seat. "So... you guys really wanna know what happened that night?"

She swore, she _felt_ the sighs of relief from the front of the car.

"That would be wonderful, Lyssie." Mom encouraged.

"Well... it started with that cat thief who was in the news, Amelia Reynolds..."

* * *

Dee went down _hard_ when she got home, about six different flavors of exhausted when she was able to flop into bed. Between the ordeal at Karen's birthday party, escaping a fire alive, and explaining to her parents _what actually happened_ with Amelia, why they adopted a cat, and why _Kenny was possibly the reason she was still alive after that bullshit,_ there was just nothing left in the tank. She traveled up to her room, slid her hat off her head, tossed her over shirt one way, her binder another way, wiggled out of her cargo pants, and promptly _face-planted_ into her comforter whilst only _just missing_ where Junior had planted himself for a nap.

Dimly, right before falling asleep, she felt like she'd forgotten something. Something _important..._

Eyes cracked open with the warm grog of a dreamless sleep that passed by without memory. It seemed it was only a moment ago that she'd collapsed under the last light of the afternoon, and now she was blinking against the dark of night and seeking out some sense of time. Her hand automatically fumbled for where she usually left her phone... only to come up empty.

 _That's right, I lost it._

Groaning annoyance, socked feet slid out of bed. The comforter she'd landed atop of was grasped to wrap around her shoulders instead. Doing so displaced Junior, who awoke with a meow of complaint before quickly taking over her favorite pillow and curling up again. Stumbling over to her computer desk and plopping her but into the chair before flicking the mouse to bring the machine out of sleep mode. Blinking against the light, the login screen displayed the time: _4:46 AM_

 _Damn... little early to get ready for the day, little late to go back to sleep on a school day..._

She mused for a moment, and then decided yes, she would log in. A few taps on her keyboard, a couple clicks, and she was setting up for her habitual rounds of the internet. Check through social media, see what's going on, _oh hey, Karen kept the party going at Tricia's place- cute selfies. How does she keep that energy up? Oof, and Cartman's doing the_ _ **woe is me**_ _dance on Facebook 'cause Heidi blocked him. Again._ _ **Surprise!**_ _… what's this?_

Arrival on Facebook meant checking her messenger; she always had alerts. She always had alerts from _everything-_ her IM inbox was just one of the many places were strangers tried to get her attention. She'd set up the privacy controls to filter out people who weren't on specific lists, so only messages from people she actually knew made it to the quick-access list. Checking there revealed that pretty much everyone had tried to get in touch with her after things had settled down... but most notable was a message from one of her alt accounts... specifically the one associated with the Buttlord Facebook page, and her phone.

She didn't remember messaging herself. She'd had the data on her phone off, for safety reasons. When had she sent a message to herself? … and why didn't she recall?

Her lips puckered, debating on even poking the button to check the message. The concern about compromised data connections remained in her brain; that Kartwright was out there, and possibly using unsecured data connections _like_ phone internet to keep tabs on her and her friends.

… _looking can't hurt._

She clicked the message. It was an image, and it took a moment to load.

It was a selfie. She remembered taking it; Karen had asked her to take a selfie with her with the brand new pizzeria sign in the background, and she'd drug Kevin and-

 _And Kenny!_

Her brain stuttered over something. Kenny hadn't been there... had he? She didn't remember him being there... but then there was this photo, where he clearly was there, in the frame and smiling with his siblings through his coat and muffler- that smile that showed in the way his cheeks lifted under his eyes.

… _oh no..._

The chaos, everything that had happened- and her failure to remember? That always added up to one thing. The _worst_ thing.

She forwarded the picture to him, tabbing over to the chat with him. Facebook didn't show that he'd been recently active, but that didn't mean anything.

[Sent: 4:52] You up?  
[Sent: 4:53] I'm coming over.

* * *

 **:: The Author's Corner:: **

_HOO BOY WE MADE IT THROUGH ALL THAT ACTION AND NOW IT'S RESOLUTION TIME_

I swear guys I did not mean to let this installment of NKS get so long. Once I committed to the whole FNAF thing I just... had to follow my own sense of flow for it, plus getting in the important stuff for the future of the series as we build up to the season finale... :3

 _ONWARDS!_

 _ **-Buttlord**_


	35. Memories

**:: Sneaker's SnacShak – Memories::**

Kenny had drug the police car into the entrance of the building to prevent the firemen from getting in right away after all his friends and family got out.

He needed time to feed all the animatronics to the fire in the kitchen. The broken pieces of Sniffer, Scratcher, and Sneaker's endoskeleton- he had to _make sure_ they burned. It wasn't until that task was completed, and the rear employee door was getting broken into, that he finally fed himself to the flames.

He didn't know if it would work. He was hoping it would.

 _The smell_ was the first thing that signaled success. The musty, stuffy, _shitty_ smell of his house. Suddenly having a sense of smell again would have been a relief if that wasn't the first thing he got a whiff of.

Better was the sense of his body. Having skin that could sense the texture of his blankets, his bed, his _coat-_

 _That fucking coat._

All at once, he was upright in bed. It was always dark in here with the lights off; he didn't have a window, but there was also no light coming in from under his door. That signaled it was either very _late_ or very _early..._ and it was as cold as it always was. Flipping his hood up, he drew it tight and groped around his bedroom to find the busted chest of drawers off the edge of his bed. He never understood why, while he _always_ resurrected with his coat, he _never_ came back with his underwear- and the _Colorado draft_ was something he didn't fucking appreciate right after a mortal experience.

Then again, after being a machine without any sense of feeling for a while, he was kinda glad for any sensory experience... even if it _was_ his equipment shriveling up like raisins in the cold.

That taken care of, he wasn't sure what his intent was. He wanted to check in at Karen, but assuming she'd stuck to her plans, she'd spent the night at Tricia's place with her friends. Showing up at the Tucker residence at _who even fucking know what the hour was_ sounded like a fast way to embarrass her...

 _What did she even remember? Does she think I abandoned her? … does she think I ran away?_

He hated that thought. Hated it more than anything- more than not knowing why he couldn't die. The idea of Karen thinking he straight up _ditched_ her when she needed him, that she couldn't depend on him to be there when she needed him...

That thought spiral was interrupted by a knock. A soft rapping of knuckles; not on his bedroom door. No one in this fucking house knocked like that besides Karen, and she wasn't here. No, it came from his closet...

He felt his hopeless heart suddenly leap up into his throat. _Lyssie._

He rushed over, pulling the cover off of the secret entrance to his room and offering a hand to the girl who had the singular distinction of _believing_ him when he told her about his inability to die, and everyone else's inability to remember. She wasn't any different in the latter regard; she forgot, just like everyone else... but if she ever put together that something _didn't add up_ about him suddenly disappearing during something shitty? She did this.

She came over to see him, to check in, to listen to him.

It was a big part of how they became friends... and a bigger part of how he'd started crushing on her a year ago- not that he'd ever told her that. They'd been guy friends back then. Coming onto 'Dee' would have made things awkward in the whole group... or so he'd reasoned back then. Considering how accepting Stan and Kyle had been about them being 'gay' together, it was probably more accurate to say he'd _rationalized_ not saying anything for fear of fucking shit up with the one guy who seemed to _give a fuck_ whether he was okay or not.

Guy or girl didn't matter to him- Dee or Alyssa didn't matter to him. The person he helped through that hole in his wall had been special to him for a long time.

Once she was mostly upright, he hugged her. The mass of her body was warm, despite the chill from outdoors still sticking to the external layer.

"... are you not wearing pants?"

He blinked. He forgot about that.

" _... shhhh, we're having a moment."_

She snorted; the sound of her holding back a laugh rather than just letting it out, but he felt her shoulders shake. He giggled along with her before letting her go, retreating to his bed and quickly covering up with the blankets there to escape the cold. She joined him, hopping up onto the surface of his bed and pulling her feet up after heel-toeing out of her shoes... which he noticed were not her usual big heavy boots, but gym shoes.

 _That's right, her boots got abandoned._

" _Hoodie, boots... you're running out of trademarks to lose. What's next, your hat?"_ He posited through the muffle of his hood.

" _Nooope."_ She shook her head, tucking her feet under the blankets to keep them warm. "I'd kill someone to keep this hat safe; my mom made it for me." She pulled the aforementioned garment off of her head, red curls pouring out as she handed it across to him. "Feel it- super squishy, right? It's crochet."

Kenny took the item when offered, squishing the material between his hands. The yarn was cheap, but layering up made it exceptionally... well, _squishy_ was the right word, or maybe just the one that felt right after she'd put it in his head. He turned it in his hands, contemplating trying it on... but that would require taking his hood down, and he was cold enough at the moment. "Really? … how long have you had this thing?"

He remembered she had it the day she moved in, so at least a couple years.

"Since I was like... _five?"_ She reached across, putting her hand into the hat as if she were going to pull a rabbit out of it like a magician. "Check this, there's a _surprise_ inside." Rather than pull anything _out_ of the hat, she grabbed the inside of it to turn it inside-out, exposing the clumsy stitching of the base layer that had been hidden under the cleaner top layer. Kenny suspected Alyssa's mom had been a beginner at crochet when she'd set out to make her daughter a hat... which might have explained why the item was big enough to still _fit_ her head after all these years. More than that, however, was a little bit of different-colored stitching. Not crochet loops, but like someone had sewn in a length of yarn between the loops to make a decorative shape on the inside of the hat.

A yellow star, particularly.

" _Huh... what's it with you and stars? Ever since your hoodie got ruined, you've been wearing that star-shirt, too."_

"When I was little, my dad got me a SNES- and I was _way_ into Mario." She smiled nostalgically, taking her had back and recapturing her hair beneath it. "Back then, I knew I wasn't always safe, but I didn't know why... but when playing my game, if you had a star, _nothing_ could touch you. Mom put a star in my hat as a lucky charm so I wouldn't be scared to go to school when I started kindergarten."

The anecdote made him stare at her for a second, silence hanging for a moment as she looked back at him and cocked her head slightly to ask _'What?'_ without actually saying it.

" _That is..."_ He paused, before throwing himself at her for a seated hug, dragging her over to his side of the bed and ultimately his lap. _"So adorable!"_

"A-Ack- Kenny- augh, lemme go you- _dork!"_ She squirmed when grabbed, her feet coming out from under her as she was captured and drug over. Somewhere in the exchange, she ended up laughing aloud behind a hand covering her mouth. "It's stupid... just... a thing I hold onto." She downplayed it, trying to sober things and probably escaped the embarrassed blush that he could practically _hear_ covering her cheeks. "It's not like it actually makes me feel safe anymore... I know better."

Despite trying to play it off, she remained where he'd drug her, laying back with her head in his lap, looking up at him. Her big black coat was zipped up, but he was willing to bet she was wearing that T-shirt with the star on the chest right then... but despite the dark there was one thing he didn't have to bet on, and it was the stupid-huge smile stretched across her face.

" _It's not stupid. It's cute."_ He argued, slipping a hand over one of hers, looking for more contact. He felt touch-starved, reveling in having his senses back. Every little thing was _the best thing ever. "Because I said so."_

"Aaah, well, who am I to deny the rule of Princess Kenny?" She smirked up at him, accepting his hand, his bare fingers easily intertwining with her gloved ones.

There was a pause. This moment didn't happen because she'd decided to visit out of nowhere. They both knew it.

" _What tripped you this time?"_ He asked her. Not an uncommon place to start. Knowing how much she didn't remember gave him a point at which to start correcting the record. The rest would go from there.

"The selfie of the sign." She answered. "The picture Karen asked me to take? I... guess I sent it to myself to save it before I abandoned my phone to bait Sniffer while he had me pinned in the play area. I remember taking the picture, but I don't remember you being there for it, and I don't remember sending the photo to myself... which probably means part of my motivation for saving it was attached to you." She mused. "I woke up, got online to catch up on shit, and there it was in my inbox, with you in the picture when... I don't remember you being at the party at all."

 _So Karen probably thinks I just didn't come... ouch._

"You pulled me and Kevin into it." He noted softly. "... I was gonna print it out for Karen- frame it for her."

An idea struck him. A desperate one, maybe, but it hit him all the same.

" _... could you..._ _ **make**_ _her remember?"_

She blinked beneath him. Slowly, she lifted herself up, settling back on her own butt to look at him seriously. The shift changed the way their hands gripped together, fingers sliding apart for palms to instead clasp between where they sat. "Kenny..."

" _Not the whole night!"_ He quickly covered. _"Just... let her remember I was there, at least for a little while. Long enough that I could still give her the picture- give her at least_ _ **one**_ _happy memory from that shitshow."_

"Kenny, I might _break_ her- I don't know if I can fabricate a memory without doing damage, and I'm sure as shit not going to _try that out for the first time on your sister."_

He knew the request was a bad one. Selfish, even. Alyssa was making perfect sense, and yet? He wanted to be mad at her for saying no. He _wanted_ to be angry, and accuse her of being unfair... but he knew that wasn't right.

" _... I just don't want her to think I abandoned her. I... I've never **not** been there when she needed me, Lyssie. I've always-" _

His attempt to explain was interrupted. Not by Alyssa; she'd been sitting there quietly, listening as she did whenever he needed someone to listen. No, the interruption came from his _door._

From a soft, tiny knock.

" _... Kenny? Are you awake?"_

Karen's voice, quietly calling through his door. She'd come home! But... _why?_ Panicked, he glanced to Alyssa, as if she might give him the answer of _what the fuck he was supposed to do right now._

Alyssa looked just as lost, but gave him a small nod of encouragement.

" _Yeah, I'm up. C'mon in, punk."_

The door gently opened, and Karen slipped through, dressed in a set of thick pajamas that were bright pink... which, surprise, Karen had done work on to add black accents along all the hem lines. It was some of her earlier work; the seems visible and frequently uneven, but she still wore it all the time. Leaning on the door to shut it behind her, she only noticed Alyssa once she was in the room. "Oh! Dee... _sorry,_ were you two...?"

" _It's okay, short stack, get your butt up here."_ Kenny motioned his sister to join them, watching as she hurried her way over and climbed up to join him atop his janky-ass mattress. _"You okay?"_

"Uh... _yeah,_ I'm... I mean..."

 _Fuck, I knew it- she has to hate me._

" _Listen, Karen..."_ Kenny reached out, grasping her by the shoulder. _"About your party, I..."_

"No!" She shook her head, overriding him before he could apologize for not being here. She had a look on her face; one of utter determination. "I wanted to thank you!"

Kenny blinked. That didn't compute.

In his silence. Karen continued. "After that talk we had, where... where we talked about how I'm _gonna_ get into trouble, and stuff is _gonna_ happen, and that's okay- I know we talked about _me_ messing up and doing bad things, but it made me realize that part of the deal is _you're not always gonna be there to rescue me._ So... I wanted to thank you for... _letting me do this one on my own-_ even if it was scary! And dangerous! I... I think I learned a lot, and that's important. So..."

She trailed off. Kenny got the sense that she'd been practicing this speech, and she hadn't said half of what she meant to say. It was weird, hearing her _thank him_ for not being there, for letting her take care of her own shit when _he had very much been there,_ but...

Well, the lesson was solid, at least.

She was suddenly up on her knees, leaning over to wrap him up in both arms with a hug that might have been bone-crushing if she were a little older. Kenny had to let go of Alyssa's hand to hug her back, squeezing her back in much the same manner.

"I love you, Kenny."

" _Heh... I love you too, punk. Now sit your ass down and tell your big brother all about your crazy party- and the after party over at Tricia's place. Gimmie deets! You break any hearts?"_

"Kenny!" Karen sat back, cuffing her big brother in the shoulder. "... don't you wanna go back to sleep? It's like... five in the morning."

" _Screw sleep, it's story time. It's not like **this guy** was gonna tell me what went down." _Kenny reached out for Alyssa, pulling her in closer like they were about to settle in for some _Netflix and chill_ before looking expectantly back at Karen. _"Princess Sugar Skull has the floor."_

"Alright, alright!" Karen giggled, grabbing a corner of the blanket herself to settle in and stay a while. "Fair warning though, it gets _pretty_ scary... might even give _you_ nightmares!"

* * *

" _And now for the news program that starts your day off right, It's GOOD MORNING, SOUTH PARK! Our top story this morning is a follow-up on the terrible fire at the new pizzeria, Sneaker's SnacShak. Here with more is a midget in a bikini, and a cowboy hat."_

Dee had returned home in time to get ready for school, but immediately knew her attempt at _sneaking in_ without her parents knowing she'd been out were foiled when she heard her usual news program blasting on the TV. Mom left for work at crazy-o-clock, which meant...

Yep, there was dad, standing in the entryway to the kitchen.

"Early start?" He asked, eyebrows arched up as she froze in the doorway. In response, she _attempted_ an innocent smile, but she somehow doubted she carried it off right at that exact moment.

Shutting the door behind her, she made sure it was secure before saying, "It was important... I- uh..."

She blanched. Admitting where she went felt like she was going to run smack into the issue that had sparked the last big fight.

" _Yes?"_ Dad prompted, waiting for her to explain while the TV continued to drone in the background, covering the fire yesterday afternoon.

"... I went to check in with Kenny. He... was worried sick about Karen. I wanted to make sure he was alright."

"... at five in the morning?" Dad pressed.

"... it's when I woke up?" She offered with a shrug, aware that it sounded weak as hell. Maybe it could have waited, but she didn't _want_ to wait when she knew how often he felt forgotten after shit like that. _It felt too important to wait once she'd known what happened._

Dad remained stoic for several seconds longer, and then let it go. "You _kids..._ I remember being that impulsive. Just... leave a note or something next time, okay? At least until we get your phone replaced."

"I... _I can do that."_ She agreed.

"Speaking of replacements..." Dad continued on, retreating into the kitchen. "Package arrived for you on Saturday; things were so busy all weekend I think it slipped everyone's minds."

Dee felt a shot of excitement run through her- she'd been expecting a package. Eagerly, she hurried across the living room to meet her father as he returned to the doorway to the kitchen, holding out the soft, squishy parcel for her. She wasted no time in taring it open, using her teeth when nails failed and revealing bright, electric blue fabric inside.

 _My hoodie! **Finally!**_

She wasted no time changing, shedding of her coat, and the flannel shirt she'd been using to disguise her body shape, and pulling on her brand-new oversized electric blue hoodie over the top of her T-shirt with the star on the chest. It wasn't _exactly_ the same as her old one, but it was close enough that she doubted anyone but her would be able to tell the difference... and the soft fleece on the inside was _new_ and felt _so nice._

Dad chuckled in the background. "Hungry? I'm making breakfast sandwiches."

"Yes please." She responded, picking up the packaging she'd ripped apart to throw it away before plopping her butt on the couch... just in time to catch the tail end of the segment.

" _... what's fascinating to know is that the Sneaker's chain, started by South Park's own Herbert Garrison, former President of the United States and elementary school teacher, is not actually meant to be a classic pizzeria. Visiting website, the service for birthday parties is described as a traditional birthday party package in all public areas, but is in fact meant to **trick** children into thinking they're getting a run-of-the-mill birthday party, with the 'Sneaker's Experience' being based around locking in the guests and turning the restaurant into a haunted house where the animatronic characters scare the children by hiding and jumping out at them. When we reached out to Garrison for comment, he said that he always disclosed this to parents, and his chain became popular with families trying to quote, 'Scare their kids to toughen them up. Really de-pussify them, y'know?', end quote. Back to you, Tom." _

_Oh. So they were **meant** to be fucking terrifying in the dark. That explains the eyes. _

"Lyssie, have you taken your medicine today?" Dad called from the kitchen.

"Not yet!" She answered back, craning her head back. She could smell bacon. Dad always did _fully loaded_ when it came to breakfast sandwiches- usually on everything bagels.

"Got it! … _huh? …_ uh, Sport? … did you move your pills?"

Dee blinked. What? She pushed her sore body up and off the couch, coming to the kitchen so they didn't have to shout back and forth, and finding her father peeking into the kitchen cabinet where they usually kept her medicine. She had regular access to it ever since her parents came clean about it and stopped sneaking it into her food, although she still didn't know where the hell her parents even got the stuff in the first place. He also had two frying pans on the stove top; one frying bacon and the other cooking eggs, with cheese slices on hot standby with split bagels. Dad had actually been distracted from his cooking, as the cabinet he was looking into...

 _Was empty._

"I... squirreled a couple doses away, but I didn't move the box." She informed him. "... did mom clean?"

"She never moves the box." Dad answered, sounding less confused and more upset. "Lyssie, can you watch this for a second? I need to check something..."

"On it." She assured him, stepping up to the stove. She wasn't a master cook like her father, making up delicious things all over the place, but she knew enough of basic breakfast cookery not to burn the bacon or let the eggs get overdone. The moment she took over, her father hurried off to some other part of the house, and she heard his steps going upstairs and thumping across the upper floor as he hurried. Did he have a place where he kept those boxes that she didn't know about?

Now that she thought about it... did her parents regularly order that stuff, or did they just have a _stockpile_ for her? She'd never asked those questions. The medicine was just... a _thing._ There. But it was important- it was part of using her abilities on command, and not just in extreme circumstances when she'd eaten some horrifying build-it-yourself burrito with moldy cheese and spicy shrimp on it.

Hearing her father curse from upstairs, she had a terrible feeling sinking in her stomach.

" _Dad?"_ She shouted, leaning out from the stove as if it would make her voice carry. _"Dad, what's going on?!"_

More cursing. Steps thumping back, down the stairs and hurrying back into the kitchen. When her father arrived, he appeared _shaken._

"... your medicine..." He gaped, like he couldn't quite believe it himself. "It's gone- _it's all gone."_

 _ **~FIN**_

* * *

 **:: The Author's Corner::**

 _I just cranked out 13K words in one fucking day._

BECAUSE THAT'S HOW BUTTLORD ENDS A FUCKING STORY.

By putting a cliffie at the end that leads directly into the next installment, because _shit is about to get real._

Y'all have no idea how _excited_ I am for the next installment. I _finally_ get to start paying off some of the little things I've included throughout the series. One of the reasons _this_ story ended up so long was because certain things needed to be set up for the next two installments.

As always, remember to add me to your Author Alert to make sure you get a notification for when the next installment goes online: **New Kid Stories 07: My Future Me, Myself, and I.**

I look forward to seeing y'all there! As always, _thank you so much for reading,_ and I _beg you please_ drop a review and tell me what you think! _I AM A FEEDBACK GLUTTON._ Feel like theorizing? Or asking Alyssa, Kenny, or any of the rest of the crew some questions? There's a Tumblr linked in my author profile that answers in-character asks, and we have a discord server specifically for readers to chat with each other [and occasionally my crazy ass] about what's new in the story.

 _ONWARDS MY FRIENDS AND READERS!_

 _ **-Buttlord**_


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